28 Days Later: The Prologue

Los Angeles is fantastic; I am having way too good of a time, and then find myself leaving way too soon.

The first few days I spend lying around Allison's apartment. I watch a lot of TV, and stave off boredom by alternating between the upstairs TV and the downstairs TV. At night, I go running at the track of a local private school. The air in Los Angeles is crisp and golden brown, so it's easier to forget how dirty it is at night; it needn't be mentioned how wonderful the weather is. I bought groceries and cooked my dinner like a fully domesticated human being. I feel like an imposter doing such normal activities; like I am pretending; a character in a charmingly mundane play.

I get 2 days of work on a short film as a 'PA', which is the lowest position on ANY film set. It's fun having so little to worry about. People talk to me encouragingly; in their eyes I am a young upstart with motivation and a 'can-do' attitude who is about to take this PA gig and slowly work my way up the ladder. I laugh to myself about it, until I start to get mad about it. Day 2 of the film shoot I go out of my way to make sure everyone knows that I am a marginally accomplished New York Film Executive.

I eat great Mexican food
I drive a fancy car down the freeway
I eat great Sushi
I navigate the terrible LA bus system
I get offered a job as a bike patrol security guard, working nightshift corralling drunks on the Sunset Strip
I turn down a job as a bike patrol security guard, working nightshift corralling drunks on the Sunset Strip
I sleep in on Sunday; waking up only to watch bad movies.
I attend a pot luck dinner, and my offering is: garlic bread
I attend Shrimpfest, and eat only 7 plates before they shut the kitchen down.
I eat at 2 separate Chili's; one has valet service
I find out that I am leaving for the Czech Republic in 4 days.
I scramble to get everything taken care of before leaving the country.
I do a bad job and just end up shipping everything to my sister in Tampa
I am given a pocketful of Codeine to ensure I sleep on the Transatlantic portion of the plane ride
I say goodbye to all my LA friends; who I will miss terribly.
I get way too nervous walking through Airport Security with a pocketful of codeine
I get mad when I find out that I have to go through Security again at O'Hare in Chicago.
I debate dumping the codeine every time a drug sniffing dog walks by me.
I take all the pills upon boarding the plane
I DO NOT SLEEP AT ALL; not even for 5 minutes
I am now in the Czech Republic, Prague.

Prague is beautiful, albeit very cold and constantly wet. It's good to see Marv, Ellen and Matt (collectively: the family). This is my first time being jet lagged, and I think of it as a sort of neat new experience... until day 6 of the 9 day adjustment. The last 3 days I'd be willing to strangle a dolphin if I thought it would give me some small energy boost. I am constantly being introduced to new people, and can barely bring myself to grunt 'Hello'. My official greeting is to yawn, rub my eyes a few times, and then mutter something about taking a nap.

I run every day in the park behind our apartment; it sits on a cliff that overlooks the entire city. I slowly learn a few Czech words, and a working knowledge of the Metro system. At the same time, I grow increasingly frustrated at not being able to find a job, or a Burger King. Unlike most every city I've visited this past summer, I adjust to Prague slowly, and only after 2 weeks do I realize just how wonderful a place it really is. I ride the tram into the city and then go for long walks through the old town at night; slowly discovering my way back home. This is truly going to be an experience I will remember in detail for quite some time. So strange; living on the third floor of an LDS church in the shadow of a GIANT castle in Prague.

I don't think I've mentioned cycling once in this final entry... which I guess says it all. When I am walking to the store, cooking dinner, or running in the park, I no longer think of these activities as 'a novel change of pace'. I no longer think of the world in terms of cycling at all. I am no longer an imposter; a pretender. I am not a character in a charmingly mundane play. I am just a guy cooking dinner, or walking to the store.

...but every once in a while I will look back at all the pictures i took, and remember that they are only blurry and ill-composed because I was moving too fast to get off my bike.

THIS MACHINE HAS KILLED ITS FINAL SQUIRREL
BUT WAIT....

http://theweirdparty.blogspot.com

Day 99: It Certianly Is Strange To Be Here...

October 29th, 2007:

I wake up for the transfer in Sacramento. An ugly town if there ever was one. This is Central California: Ugliness extends beyond the horizon and on into infinity. Everything is brown, except the lawns of fast food establishments which are well manicured and watered a deep green. Small and tacky oasis’ in a sea of dirt colored houses. The bus gets full, and I end up sitting next to an elderly Asian woman, whose husband sits a row behind us with a watchful eye. At one point in the trip, the middle-aged Asian woman sitting in front of me refused to give her seat to a black guy. It was pretty awful.

Nick had suggested I read The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel on my way down to Los Angeles. Wow… Am I ever glad I did. Some of the best writing I have ever read; it is profoundly emotional without resorting to stupid flowery prose. This woman is amazing, and reading her wry, smart and beautifully constructed sentences makes me want to write again. Truly inspiring.

The bus drops me off in North Hollywood where I am planning to catch a city bus to Sherman Oaks. Well… apparently the busses here don’t run but every half hour. I walk most of it, and the weather is amazing. I forgot how good the wind feels out here. I could spend every day outside in the sun.

I call Allison from the AM/PM by her house, but she is on set. I call up Allison’s roommate Dani K, whose parents helped me out in Chicago, and we made plans to get dinner. It’s good to see her again; she lets me into the apartment, and I stay up late waiting for Allison to get home.

I carve out a corner of the room where I can keep my stuff. I am reunited with a bag of clothes that I had sent here before the trip began. My hard drive with my music collection. A different pair of shoes. 4 walls. A large bed. A kitchen. A TV. Video Games, a 7-11 down the street. It’s not “home”, but a facsimile that might one day earn a place in my heart, enough for me to think of it as home. The Bike trip feels so far away. I look over the old photographs from the first few weeks of the trip, just so I can fully appreciate the contrast between now and then. I am sentimental for all of it. The thought enters my mind that maybe I can ride the TransAM route sometime in the not too distant future. But that’s an idea for another time. Tomorrow I will start making plans and coming up with brilliant ideas for a bright new future, but tonight I will watch backlogged episodes of The Soup and stretch out across the bed, drinking Diet Coke and eating pizza like the king that I am.

And so I guess this is it… It certainly is strange to be here.

Day 98: On the Bus Mall

October 28th, 2007

My day revolved around my departure this afternoon. I wanted to sleep in, but couldn't for some reason, so instead I showered and made a breakfast out of the leftover food that past guests had forgot to remove from the hostel fridge. I had a conversation with a guy from Arizona who was my age and had absolutely no reason to be in Portland other than having a week off of work. These hostels are swimming with a lot of neat young adults with a desire to be someone different/better than they are. After breakfast I sat around the living room while my electronics charged; I would need to be prepared if I am to survive the horrible long bus ride. Killing time, I watched the older hostel patrons mingle. They are in their 30's, 40's and 50's, and seem to exist in their own world. A woman from Colorado is convinced that she can live her life without money or a job. She talks the ear off of an older gentleman who moves to a new city every 2 years, because he doesn't like to feel 'tied down'. I don't want to judge them too harshly (who am I to say that a life SHOULD be lived a certain way) but to me they are a cautionary example, a reminder to not let this year of traveling turn into a lifetime of not planting any roots. A good reminder to keep focused on what I intend to do with myself after this year is over. But I must reiterate that it is just my personal set of priorities; I am trying to make no value judgments on these folk.

I take a bus to the downtown and walk around a while. I grab breakfast. I stop by REI which makes me wish I had a lot of money. I buy a book at Powell Books and go to a park to read. I cannot concentrate, my mind is too caught up thinking about the next phase of this trip:

Downshifting. A whole new set of priorities. A job in Los Angeles. Riding the bus lines. Shirt and tie. Getting up with the sun. A stack of resume's in my backpack. My clothes in a dark corner of Allison's room that I have annexed for my own. I am excited, though anxious about the worst case scenarios.

I find the Portland Bus Mall, or what is left of it. It is in the process of being replaced with a new ambition to revitalize the 'old town. The Decemberists have a song called 'On The Bus Mall', which is about two teenage runaway boys who turn to 'hustling' in order to survive on the Portland streets, and form a strong familial bond in the process. Today, while waiting for my Greyhound Bus, I walked around the Portland Bus Mall, with the hopes of witnessing the backdrop that inspired Colin Meloy to write such a beautiful song; I walked around until my back hurt and my feet ached in my cycling shoes. I never found it because it isn't there anymore. The 'Old Town' is in the process of being turned into a high-end shopping district.

Obviously you can't get too upset when a run-down, crime-prone region of the city is bulldozed to make way for a fashionable shipping district, but you can recognize that this mostly benign action is just one small part of a larger problem in our cities. A condo grows in Brooklyn, and within a few years every business within a 5 block radius is catering to the money-flush clientele that long to live in the high-rises that overlook our city. Pretty soon, the money-less have absolutely no business being in this part of town; and this is how our cities are starting to feel more and more like Los Angeles. I don't know about you but I don't want to live in Los Angeles. I understand that it is all part of a process and new neighborhoods will emerge that cater to the wealth-challenged demographic but eventually the poor will get completely pushed beyond the reach of mass-transit, and then the city will be closed.

NOW... this being said I am fully aware that I myself am a gentrifying force, and there are poorer people in Brooklyn who would despise my effect on the neighborhood. So I guess I am also part of the problem, and so I don't really have an answer for any of this but I'm sure someone much smarter than me does. How does a city provide for those that make it culturally relevant (a young artist demographic), without hampering economic prosperity? There's not much I can do, so I will simply join in the Rent-Spike Shuffle and get a windowless bedroom in Bushwick, and dream of a better life in Denver.

Eventually I just decide to sit in some corporate Mexican establishment next to the bus station and just drink their refillable sodas and use their complimentary WIFI until my bus leaves. It is a fun way to kill a few hours. At the greyhound station I get yelled at for taking pictures inside the terminal; I understand, it IS a security risk. We load onto the bus just after sunset, and I luck out by not having to sit next to anyone. Immediately the personalities of the fellow passengers start to emerge. The loud guy is two rows behind me, and he will talk on his cell phone the whole time. He refers to his girlfriend as a bitch. At one point in the ride he and two others will start swapping stories of times they spent in jail.

The bus ride begins and it's strange to watch everyone go about their business, while I am hurried out of the city on a massive ugly chariot. I have a hard time trusting the bus driver as we navigate the curves and large hills of Central Oregon; eventually I resign myself to whatever fate may come, and decide to trust the aging driver with his gin blossom face, and nicotine breath. About every hour our low-rent caravan makes a brief stop, and I decide to take at least one photograph at every town. Salem, Eugene, Medford?, Other less notable places until I trust our driver enough to fall asleep.

Days 94 - 97: Portland, The Setting for My Unimportant Problem

Here I go again, falling behind on my blogging because I am too busy enjoying myself in another one of our fine country's amazing cities. So I lump 4 days together in one post; but just take it as a testament to Portland's beauty.

Day 94: It is raining, and I am in no rush to be riding in the rain again. I wake up late, do laundry, and meet the nice lady across the street who walks the dog in the day time. She is really friendly and invites me to grab a cup of coffee with her. We end up playing card games at a nearby cafe for hours. It really is a lot of fun. Afterwards I go walking around the neighborhood in the rain. I like this city's beat. When Mike gets off work, he and Megan make dinner and we go to a nearby bar for Karaoke. All night I flirt with the idea of singing "Common People", but like most people I am much too chicken to go through with it, without first getting drunk. The regulars in this bar are pretty hysterical.

Day 95: It is beautiful outside and I go riding around the city. Up and down the waterfront. A lot of bridges, a lot of young people, a lot of trees. Such a great city. In the afternoon I ship off all of my stuff, except for what I can cram in my laptop bag. I stay in my room tonight and look for jobs on the internet. I wish I had more skills, and I wish Brooklyn wasn't so expensive.

Day 96: I wake up and ride my bike to the bike shop. Drop it off to get boxed up. I talk to Nick on the phone about an idiotic article in the New Yorker. Their music critic is a moron. It seems Nick is as frustrated with his career prospects as I am. I walk all the way into the downtown and catch the Light Rail into the suburbs where I meet my Aunt Kathy. I am struck by how much she resembles my mom. Back at her house, I hang out talking to her and Ken most of the afternoon. A bunch more family members show up; lots of children. It's fun to be in a loud and boisterous house again. Really good dinner. I've never really known Kathy and Ken all that well, but they're really great people. Ken is one of those rare LDS members who seem to actually have a compassionate political outlook. Really nice surprise. I sleep really well.

Day 97: I wake up and its another beautiful day. Breakfast and then a corn maze. A Hay ride. Hanging out with the little (2nd?) Cousins is a lot of fun. I miss Zoie and Tobin. Lunch. A game of Dominoes. Kathy drives me into Portland to help me pick up my bike and transport it to the UPS store. I say goodbye, but am planning to visit again before too long; for reasons I will touch on in a second. I check into my hostel. My bunkmate seems crazy; ranting and raving about people who have burned him in the past. He often changes pronouns and the genders of his tormentors, and i get confused. I take a bus into downtown. I love mass transit. I never quite feel a part of the city until I am on their mass transit system. I walk around the downtown and stumble across a MASSIVE Zombie parade/march. Seriously.... Thousands of zombies with GREAT costumes, all in character marching down the street shouting "Brains". The line of undead just never ends. Truly impressive. I follow it for a while to find their destination, but it just never seems to end. After 45 minutes, my curiosity wanes, and I head back to the Southeast side of town. Hang out at the hostel and work on the blog. Time to think.

OK... so I've been thinking a lot about Portland. I've really enjoyed my time here, and I can't seem to shake the idea that I could move here with much less hassle than moving back to NYC. Rents here are less than half of Brooklyn's, and for much better living conditions. Also... band practice spaces go for about $100 - $200 a month, compared to New York's $700 - $800.

So here's the thing... This trip has made me realize two things above all else... 1) I want to live life a lot more immediately, and 2) My friends are very important to me. When I finish traveling, my main goal is to start playing music immediately, and to not keep waiting until i finish a certain number of songs, or until I have the money to buy better equipment... I am sick of putting off my dreams. This is SOOOO much harder to accomplish in Brooklyn, because it does require a TON of money to get a band going. And the city is already so expensive, you can work a full time job just to barely stay afloat. The jobs pay less in Portland, but it would still be soooo much easier to get set up and get a band going. BUT... all my friends live in Brooklyn, and I'm not sure I'm willing to sacrifice their friendship for this pipe dream of playing indie rock. I tool around all day on craigslist, looking at the disparity between the housing prices of both cities. I'm just not sure what to do, so... I think I'll just ignore it for a while and see if something changes in the next 5 months. Maybe Portland will burn to the ground or something? But... I definitely want to spend some more time here. It's really nice.

I only have 2 days of traveling left, and then a prologue to write.

Day 93: Behold Portland; $2 Pints and a Ton of Bikes.

***I am typing this entry, whilst sitting in a hostel living room next to two guys discussing film. They clearly have no idea of what they speak. Their opinions are silly and obvious. It is really distracting, and so I put on headphones, but nonetheless my concentration is affected. Oh dear… now they’re discussing The Pixies. I can’t hardly stand it! Please forgive me if there are a lot more errors than usual. My head is elsewhere. ***

I wake up and watch some TV. This might be my favorite thing in the world, the ability to wake up without any sort of time constraint, and to just lie in bed until the TV becomes less interesting than the idea of what might be outside the front door. Made breakfast in the motel room and watched the news.

Leaving Longview is a pretty terrifying way to start the day. I approach the Columbia River, which divides Oregon and Washington, and with every passing block the smell of the pulp mills becames more and more unbearable. By the time I reach The Lewis and Clarke Bridge, it is really hard to stomach. I have a childhood memory of crossing into Oregon on this bridge and wondering why anyone would ever want to live in such a foul-smelling state. The bridge is one of the scarier moments of riding these past 3 months. Logging trucks whiz by at incredibly high speeds while I slowly ride along the bridge’s narrow shoulder hundreds of feet in the air. To make matters worse, the shoulder is completely covered in a thick layer of bark from the felled trees being transported on the logging trucks. Mixed in with the bark is a ridiculous amount of glass. Like someone had smashed a few dozen tall-boys on the bridge that very morning. I get off my bike to walk it across the glass-strew surface, but this also feels very unsafe, and so I just ride across and accept the idea of getting a flat tire at some point today.

The Longview stench lingered until a little ways south of Ranier, OR… Oh yeah…. I’m in Oregon now!

The ride this morning is fantastic. This STP route really is quite nice; a perfect blend of hills, descents, frustration and fun. I stop at McDonalds for Breakfast at about the halfway point for the day. I’m starting to get nostalgic, and I do everything a bit slower and more deliberate than usual. After breakfast I have a sit and do some thinking.

Tonight I will be staying with Mike R. of Team Northern Tier 2007, and a few days back he left me a voicemail telling me to call him when I was 15 miles outside of town, so he could meet me on the road and ride with me back to his place. I remember to do this about 10 miles outside of the city, and decide to wait until the next gas station. Before I get the chance to call, my back tire goes really flat, and really fast. The hole in the tube is huge, and I can’t find any glass or sharp object imbedded in the tire. For all of those who don’t know… this can be one of the most irritating things on the planet.

You pull off the panniers, flip the bike upside down, pull of the wheel, pull the tire from the wheel, remove the tube, patch the tube, check to see what caused the puncture, remove item if one is found, Reinsert the tube, Put the tire back in place, and Reinflate. Some people are very fast at doing this; I am not. So it is really irritating to get back on the bike, only to have it go flat again within the first 2 minutes. This usually signals that the patch-job was bad, or I somehow missed the object imbedded in the tire.

LUCKILY… the patch held, and the tire did not go flat. But I did take notice of how “out of true” the wheel was. I can’t wait to fix this bike up in Los Angeles. I’m gonna take a whole weekend to work on every tiny thing. It’ll feel great.

About 5 miles outside of the city I start riding behind some young indie girl, and decide that since I don’t know where I should be going once inside the city, I will follow her and hopefully she will lead me to where the twentysomethings congregate. 30 minutes later I am in the NW section of town and I have NEVER seen so many cyclists in my entire life. It’s amazing. I stop at a coffee shop to check email, and they are playing AMNESIAC (Radiohead LP5). It really does seem like a cool town.

When Mike gets off work, I meet him a few blocks over, and we ride back to his place in SE Portland. It’s a fun ride along some nice streets, and the high concentration of cyclists continues. He lives in a really nice house on a quiet residential block, with a GIGANTIC dog. I kick myself for not taking any pictures of Mike, the house, or the dog. I drop off my things and we ride over to a friend’s house to meet Jamie (also of TNT2007). Jamie is asleep, so we just hit up a pub with $2 pints and a TON of bikes locked up out front. It’s good to share stories of the trail, and compare experiences. Also to hear first-hand accounts of stuff I had only read on his blog. Often times the reality isn’t quite what I had first imagined upon reading the text.

Today was a really good day; one of the best in recent memory. At first glance, Portland is really great. Riding home from the pub on quiet city streets lined with old and interesting houses. I gotta remember to thank Mike for letting me stay in his home, and for showing me around a bit. I feel very lucky to be here in Portland for this week, and at this point in my life.

Day 92: So Senseless and Stupid

I wake up late. Watch an episode of Mad About You. Is it strange that I really like that show? When I get to Los Angeles, I am going to rent the DVD sets and watch all of them; lying in bed for days on end. Actually, I will probably be kept pretty busy trying to find work and earn money, and won't have much time to waste. We'll see if it happens. This is all so I can spend April and May traveling through Europe, and still have enough left over to rent a room in Brooklyn when I get back to NYC. But I'm just going to wing it for now, and see what happens. I'm pretty confident in my ability to 'float on'.

Holy cow... I walk out the front door and the sun is shining. The sky is blue. I pack up and am out the door at 10am. I get my $10 key deposit back from the sister of the world's sternest woman, and I get going.

One more word about the motel: The room actually reminds me of a basement apartment that my buddy Greg lived in his first month in Brooklyn. Crawling with spiders; floods every time it rains. We spent an entire day painting, fumigating, caulking and patching up holes. It didn't help in the slightest and he moved out one month later. When I woke up this morning, I feel like I might have been too hard on this motel; it seems there were no insects, which was a nice surprise. Also, it had Wifi... even though the stern Asian woman swore up and down that they did not. Still confused about that.

Today was going to be a long day. I grabbed breakfast at the 7/11 and made conversation with a guy I had assumed to be homeless, until he took me to his truck to show me his bike. It was a completely dilapidated mountain bike with a bell where the water bottle cage would usually go. The riding today went really well. I stopped at the Wal-Mart in Yelm and grabbed a new set of headphones. It was the nicest Wal-Mart I have ever seen. In and out in 10 minutes. I would not have time to take any prolonged breaks today.

In Centralia at the college, they had an Iraq War Memorial on the campus; thousands of white crosses each with a dead soldier's name. Every inch of lawn on the small campus was filled with a memorial to a fallen hero. Overwhelming and sad. I found a soldier from Tampa and one from Brooklyn. Makes me want to scream; so stupid and senseless. I try to keep this blog apolitical, but in times like these staying apolitical is a ridiculously political statement. Anyone who still supports our monster President should be deeply ashamed of themselves.

The rest of the day's ride was really nice, though as I got more and more tired, the terrain got more and more challenging; beautiful rolling hills. I started to get a bit stressed around 4:30pm, as it seemed I would not make it to Longview by sundown, and there really aren't any motels anywhere along the way. I rode really hard for the rest of the day, averaging 14.59mph for the day, and a 102 mile day at that, and made it to the motel shortly after sunset. What a beautiful way to finish out the ride. Tomorrow's weather is more of the same. I know I've been harping on this for the past week or so, but I am really going to miss this lifestyle.Tonight's motel is really nice, and still pretty cheap. I can't wait to stop spending so much money, and to start eating like a human being.

Day 91: The Most Disgusting Motel I Have Ever Seen!

I didn't go to sleep until about 3am because as I was falling asleep, I suddenly remembered that I needed to buy my Greyhound ticket ASAP or I would be forced to pay almost double. So I bought a greyhound ticket to Los Angeles... So it's official... I will soon be in the least bike friendly city in North America. But before I do that... I will spend some time in possibly the most bike friendly city in the USA. Portland.

Showered. Ate Breakfast. Packed Up. Checked Out. Rode to Kinkos. Printed out a set of maps and started out on the STP (Seattle to Portland) route.

The ride was very nice, even though it was still drizzling today. Today had the highest concentration of cyclists on the road since... Ever... I probably saw over a hundred cyclists. As I passed them and they would see my 'loaded' touring bike, an envious smile would creep across their face. It made me feel good about what I was doing. It's probably not healthy to measure the worth of your endeavors by the jealous grins of onlookers... but yeah... what can I say... it made me feel good. Like external validation that I was making a great decision. Not that I need it... I'm really happy... especially today. The only downside to the crowded bike lanes, is that on two occasions I did not realize that I was being tailed by a group of cyclists. I was singing along to the VIOLENT FEMMES, and doing my best to impersonate the singers nasal, effeminate whine. Those cyclists did NOT look at me with envy. No... their expression was something more approaching disgust.

The riding was fantastic today. I bought some really cheap glasses/goggles(?) at a gas station. They look kind of ridiculous, but I'm OK with it... I think that since they hang around my neck... I won't lose this pair.

Running tally:

HEADPHONES 7 PAIR GLASSES 4 PAIR HATS 3 HATS GLOVES 3 PAIR

I really like this route. It's not too difficult, but not boring either. The highways occasionally got too busy for my tastes, but it was Sunday so it definitely could have been a lot worse. There's no better feeling than riding with the flow of traffic through a major city, but there's nothing worse than trying not to get run over by traffic in the prolonged stretch of exurbia that surrounds every major city.

My plan was to stop for the day in YELM, WA... as it had a lone motel I could crash at for probably very cheap. I called ahead and found out that it was booked up. How is that possible? It was a Sunday with very little importance! And if this motel is consistently booked up, then why can't the bustling metropolis of Yelm erect a 2nd motel? The nearest motel after Yelm was too far to reach today, and the nearest one on this side of Yelm was really close... which makes today much shorter than I would like. Ugh... I shipped off my camping gear yesterday, and now this is my first lodging snag of the entire trip. Murphy's Law, right?

So I stopped short in Spanaway and found the only motel in town...

THE MOST DISGUSTING MOTEL I HAVE EVER SEEN!

I've stayed in a $16 motel in Vegas with doors that would not lock, and a TV that only got porn stations. This place is worse. The Redwood Motel in Spanaway, WA is to be avoided.

Over the phone I was informed by the sternest woman in the world that the motel would NOT have Wifi. I met her in person and she is just as severe. I get to my room, and the door is wide open, there are flies buzzing about, the room consists of a mattress on the floor in the corner without any bedding. There is graffiti on the walls inside the room and the bathroom door appears to have been ripped off the hinges? I timidly approach the woman and ask her if 'I' am supposed to make the bed? She rolls her eyes and tells me that she'll take care of it, if I leave and come back in 15 minutes. I ask if I can put my bike in the room, but she won't have any part of that. She says that she doesn't want me blaming her if anything goes missing from my bags, so I CANNOT leave my bike in the room I paid for.

I go over to SUBWAY and the two girls that work there are way too young to be so flirtatious. They are really too forward... After 10 minutes of conversation, they ask if I am eating the sandwich in store, because they will sit with me while I eat it. I tell them that 'no' I am not eating this sandwich in the store.

'Then why did you set up your laptop?'...

Damn. The Brunette one is observant.

'Um... I was just letting it download emails while I had the sandwich made.' Her observational skills are no match for my cunning.

'So... you're just gonna go and eat this sandwich somewhere else? Why not eat it here?'

'Um... I need to get moving before the sun sets'...

As I pedaled back to the motel, I wondered if the brunette would realize that I was heading 'the wrong direction' from my declared route. Also, it occurs to me that if I want any soda later tonight, I would need to pass right by this same Subway and risk a second exposure to these sirens. I must wait and get soda under the cover of night.

I check the room for bugs and get a little more comfortable when I can't find any. The TV only gets the most useless channels. QVC, Spanish Channel, PBS... etc.

Ugh... today was some great riding, and I wish I had the camping gear so I could keep going. I was trying to listen to all the essential David Bowie albums by sundown. Oh well... I think the sun is supposed to come out tomorrow that'd be pretty neat it's been over a week since I've seen it. Tomorrow will be a long day to make up for such a short day today. I didn't take any pictures today... Nothing just really stood out.

PS - I know it's a Redford film, but does it seem like LION FOR LAMBS is Tom Cruise trying to endear himself to the American LEFT again after a disastrous last year? ...'YES OR NO!?!'

Days 88 - 90: With a Reserved Demeanor and a Sarcastic Quip...

I'm lumping my Three days spent in Seattle into one post, because all the days were pretty similar and all had very little to do with cycling.

Surprise, surprise, I really, really like Seattle. Every city I've been to has surprised me with its beauty and originality, and I think it's symptomatic of a mindset that runs rampant in NYC. Since moving to Brooklyn, I've relegated every city in North America that isn't New York to a second tier status; looked down my nose at these lesser cities as 'less than' in size, population, and coolness, rather than unique entities that have their own unique atmosphere and ambitions. There's very little I can do in NYC that I can't do in Chicago or Seattle. For the first time in years, I can see myself living in another American city outside of New York. Thank you Seattle, Minneapolis, Pittsburgh, and Chicago; thank you for relieving me of that self-centered mindset. All that being said... I really miss New York... I'm a little worried about spending two months in Los Angeles. I think I might go nuts. I'm not a huge fan of that town.

Tomorrow I will get back on the bike, bound for Portland. It's strange to think that I have only 3 days of cycling left, and only 8 days of traveling left. It's scary, but I can't yet worry about that... these past four days I have grown soft and doughy, and I will need to get my 'A Game' back before hitting the road tomorrow. It occurs to me that I never printed out the maps that Mike R. emailed me. Tomorrow could be interesting.

List of things I did/saw in Seattle:

1. Capitol Hill

2. The Bridge Troll in Fremont

3. The Lenin Statue in Fremont

4. The Space Needle

5. Volunteer Park

6. Waterfront Park

7. Pioneer Square

8. Pike Street Fish Market

9. Rode my bike all over the place, especially back alleys

10. Saw Gone Baby Gone. Had its problems, but overall very good.

11. Saw Michael Clayton... same deal.

12. Booked a Greyhound ticket from Portland to Los Angeles

13. Befriended a South Korean named Chanyong(?)

14. Caught up on my blog/correspondence

15. Got wet and stayed wet for 4 days

16. Saw a cyclist get a ticket for running a red light.

17. REI

18. Other Stuff:These 2 players are probably so excited because one of them did a very good job either catching or throwing a football.

**** Addendum!****

Later that evening, our protagonist remembers some other stuff he thought he would mention....

Tonight while I was at the movie theatre, I accidentally dropped my hostel room key card under the seat. I walked all the way back to the hostel before realizing this. Immediately I knew the odds were against me recovering this key card tonight... but I was hoping to get an early start tomorrow, so I guess I had better try, right? It was 1:30am, and the streets were mostly empty except for homeless people. I got to the mall complex and the doors were locked, I was expecting this so I flagged down a guy who was pressure washing the sidewalk and got him to let me in... I took the elevator to the 4th floor, but the doors to the theatre complex were locked. I banged on the window for 20 minutes while a night crew cleaning woman pretended not to hear me. I didn't begrudge her, she probably didn't want to get into trouble for letting in some strange kid after hours.

Eventually a short mexican night crew cleaning guy opened the door, but would not let me in. I tried explaining my case, but he did not speak a word of english and kept repeating "I don't know". I tried pantomiming my case, and to make the matter simple, I pretended that i was missing my car keys. Driving a car is much easier to pantomime than entering a hostel door. "I don't know" he continued to say. Eventually i just started walking forward through the doorway and he moved out of my way. I said "Gracias" as I headed to the escalator and didn't look back to see if he was upset with me. And indeed my key card was sitting on the ground right beneath my seat. I felt pretty triumphant; so proud of myself that i felt the need to hurry home and blog about it!

The walk home was nice. Brimming with self confidence, I would've welcomed some masked gunman to try and rob me. I probably would have given him the wallet, but with a cool, steely, reserved demeanor, and a sarcastic quip.

Another much shorter anecdote I wanted to mention was when some kid in McDonalds was convinced that I was Aesop Rock. I told him that I am not, and he didn't believe me. Apparently Aesop Rock was playing a show in the area, and this kid was confident I was him. He kept pestering me with questions while I ate. And so I ate quickly. I left McDonalds with this kid still sure I was Aesop Rock. Maybe it was the hat I was wearing. Maybe it could be a very easy Halloween Costume this year?

Day 87: "Man... That Looked Like a Bad Fall"

Wednesday, October 17th

I was prepared for the 6:30am wakeup call today. After breakfast I said goodbye to Grandpa and Mary and took to the road. Within the first 15 minutes, I managed to accidentally let my front wheel slip into the groove of a railroad crossing. Down I went. Some guy ran up and said “Man… that looked like a bad fall!” I agreed and then got moving again, but it really wasn’t that bad. Only the second major fall since I started. Not too shabby.

Getting into Seattle today was difficult. I rode the Centennial Trail, and then cut over to the Interurban Trail via Hwy 2. Part of this “cutting over” involved riding against traffic on the shoulder of a freeway off ramp. Really, really scary to someone who has never ridden the route. I kept wondering if maybe I was misreading the signs, and was destined to be a cautionary example to future cyclists in Snohomish County. It rained heavily all morning, and I stopped in Everett to warm up at a Mexican food joint.

The rain eventually stopped, and I follow the Interurban Trail with only minor difficulty; a few wrong turns but nothing major. As the day progressed, the trail got more and more convoluted and poorly marked. By the time I got to the Kings County Line the trail was ALL OVER THE PLACE, making strange nonsensical turns, so I just decided to pick a road that seemed to be major, and follow it as far as it would go. It was a great move and I followed “Meridian Rd” all the way into residential Seattle. It took a little bit of trickery and navigating, but I snaked my way through the streets and towards the downtown where my hostel for the evening was. The rain kicked in shortly before I reached Fremont, and it was intense. I was riding down a really large, steep hill by the Aurora Bridge, and it was raining harder than anything I had experienced since Ft Wayne, IN.

Other cyclists were out and about in their rain gear; commuting with ease. Every city I get to, I am impressed with the adaptability of the cyclists. I guess maybe Seattleite cyclists might be impressed with a New Yorker’s ability to weave through gridlocked traffic without stopping or slowing down. The cyclists here are not even the slightest bit concerned about riding down wet hills.

I get to the hostel and get situated. I had arranged to leave my bike with a guy from warmshowers, but instead I was able to convince the management at the hostel to let me keep the bike in the living room. Everything was working out pretty well. I went for a walk and grabbed some dinner. Seattle is exciting; lots of homeless people in the few blocks immediately surrounding where I am staying. They are very forward too; interrupting phone calls and scowling when you don’t give them money. Not nearly as laid-back as the NYC homeless. I am glad to be here, although a bit disoriented. I don’t have any idea of the layout of this city. But I guess that’s why I am staying here for the remainder of the week… to explore… and also to wait out the tropical storm that will be landing tomorrow.

Day 86: Come rain, sleet, snow, or hail or whatever...

I do not wake up as early as my grandpa does, so when I was awoken for breakfast this morning at 6:30am, it took a little while to process exactly what was going on. I didn’t see it coming. “Steven…. BREAKFAST” is called down the basement stairs. I fumble out of sleep, confused, irritable. Is this actually happening? Who could possibly have the ability to wake up early enough to cook a full breakfast by 6:30am?

My plan is to let the morning rain pass, and then ride into Seattle this afternoon after it dies down a little. Grandpa takes me up to this property he’s been developing for a few years now. It’s a really impressive compound owned by this wealthy construction mogul. I wish I had the foresight to bring my camera, but alas, I did not; lots of winding roads, man-made ponds, and shooting ranges. We do some fly-fishing, and I come very close to catching something, but it gets off the hook at the last second. It’s a really neat place that makes me wish I had a job outdoors.

Afterwards we hit up a buffet and then I take a nap back at the house. I wake up at 5pm... OK…. So I guess I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I hit up the Wifi at the library and plan out the final details for going into Seattle. I think I’ll be in Seattle from Wednesday – Sunday

Later that evening my Uncle Dennis and Aunt Dawn stop by the house. It’s good to see everyone. Apparently Dennis is the #1 Steelhead Fisherman in the world? I had no idea. Also… I’m not sure what a Steelhead is… besides the obvious assumption that it’s a type of fish. Is it a special fish? Is it rare? Does it taste really good? Is it one of those fish that can walk on land?

Tonight Floyd Mayweather got kicked off of Dancing with The Stars. He didn’t deserve to go, but it serves him right for being such a jerk to De La Hoya. Is it strange that the only 2 black celebrities on the show got the least votes, despite delivering solid performances? It’s probably nothing, but to a viewer without any context, it would appear suspicious. I don’t much care for this show, but it’s good to finally witness the spectacle firsthand.

OK… So tomorrow I ride down to Seattle. Come rain, sleet, snow, or hail or whatever…