I am sitting on a greyhound bus next to a teenager who's carrying only a basketball and his gym sneakers. I have much more baggage than that. I hear the metallic tink of the cymbals and the droning sound of the rapper from his headphones. He got on in St Cloud, I got on in Portland, and this stretch of I94 has never seemed to take so long. I smell the boy's cologne drift over to my seat. I never smelled that good after I played basketball. I smell even worse now. I'm not a stickler over hygiene, but after 42 hours on the bus, I am bad even by my standards.
It doesn't matter though. Right now the only thing on my mind is seeing that awkward clump of skyscrapers peak over the horizon as we get within eyeshot of Minneapolis. I have been on the road for weeks, and I am ready to be home. Truth is, I'm also thinking about the true friends I just left in Portland. I'm thinking about the crack-head who gave me his cup of coffee at 5am in Spokane. I'm thinking about Elise, and bluegrass music, and Rhoda, and swims in mountain lakes. About plotting a course for my life. About falling in love. About who I am.
So I guess it's not fair to say that I'm only thinking about home, even though getting back there is the best part of getting away. A lot of shit happened to me in the last few weeks, and I saw new things that I never thought I would. So that's how I knew it was a good trip... I'm pulling back into the town that I have loved all my life, and all I can think of is everything else.
The trip was a saga for me, so I will present it as a saga to you all. The following posts will be thoughts, events, episodes, revelations, and drunken ramblings from a 4200 mile road trip to Portland and back. Look for posts about twice a week, and feel free to comment on anything you want to.
And so without further ado: Travel West, My Son: A Destiny... Manifested (working title)
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