Hi everyone!
This "post" is a trial post to test my feedburner. In other words I'm testing my blog settings that send out notifications to subscribers of my blog everytime I publish something new.
If you get this, excellent! I've probably published several posts since you subscribed so please check out my blog again!
Thanks for reading!
Erik
Sunday, April 14, 2013
When Life Denies You Lemons...Make Lemonade
Life is unfair. She doesn't like to play ball all the time, and when she does it's by her rules. Her capricious nature can make the stars align for you one day and derail your success the next. Life is a fickle lady.
Life played a cruel prank on me; she made me believe I was physically in shape to travel in two months time. Just as I was selling my stuff and finalizing my plans my old shoulder injury came back and jacked up my body. After several sleepless nights of excruciating pain in my sternum, right chest, upper right back and neck, I saw my osteopath. After some prying around of my shoulders and chest, he informed me my manubrium (upper part of the sternum) had been dislodged slightly to the right. The dislocation was the cause for what apparently can cause pain similar to a heart-attack. That explained a lot. So I'm going back next week to get the rest of my upper right side of the body manually realigned after which I will undergo several sessions of prolotherapy on my right shoulder, sterno-clavicular joint and upper back. The financial burden of these sessions, as well as the recuperation period of 8 to 12 weeks (and a re-evaluation a few weeks thereafter) will probably make me postpone my trip. Those words feel like boulders slamming into my back and making my sterno-clavicular pain feel like nothing.
Making lemonade without lemons
Step 2: From Barcelona WWOOF in Italy for a few weeks. Then I would work at hostels and maybe do some bartending in north-western Europe (Amsterdam, Rotterdam, London, Edinburgh, Stockholm).
Life played a cruel prank on me; she made me believe I was physically in shape to travel in two months time. Just as I was selling my stuff and finalizing my plans my old shoulder injury came back and jacked up my body. After several sleepless nights of excruciating pain in my sternum, right chest, upper right back and neck, I saw my osteopath. After some prying around of my shoulders and chest, he informed me my manubrium (upper part of the sternum) had been dislodged slightly to the right. The dislocation was the cause for what apparently can cause pain similar to a heart-attack. That explained a lot. So I'm going back next week to get the rest of my upper right side of the body manually realigned after which I will undergo several sessions of prolotherapy on my right shoulder, sterno-clavicular joint and upper back. The financial burden of these sessions, as well as the recuperation period of 8 to 12 weeks (and a re-evaluation a few weeks thereafter) will probably make me postpone my trip. Those words feel like boulders slamming into my back and making my sterno-clavicular pain feel like nothing.
Making lemonade without lemons
The news crushed me. I thought my shoulder was fine and I had no idea my SC joint was that bad. I guess I was used to the pain and discomfort. Nevertheless, I could not become depressed if addressing the problem took longer than 7 weeks. I proceeded to write up plans B and C but not before binging on The New Girl, Workaholics and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia episodes for four days.
If resigning from work in May could not happen, I was gonna have adventures nonetheless.
Ground rules to plans B and C
If I don't start travelling and seeing new places soon I'll go mad. I need an escape from my daily life. This does not give me permission to spend my entire pay check on traveling and doing fun things. Saving is important to my future globe-trotting goals and to paying my physical therapy bills. A balance is therefore necessary between fun and savings.
1) Travel expenses cannot replace saving money
2) Keep travels to weekend-long trips. Not that I get many days to take off anyways.
3) Monthly savings should add up to recoup my physical therapy costs and weekend trips by latest September.
Ground rules set, I can proceed to creating plans B and C.
Plan A
But I thought you were writing plans B and C? Although it is very likely my trip will be postponed, I need to create my expanded Plan A in case Life sides with me for once.
Plan A had three steps to it.
Step 1: The first 5 weeks would happen as described in my adventure map. It would be a glorious, fast-paced trip across Eastern Europe a la Amazing Race.
Step 2: From Barcelona WWOOF in Italy for a few weeks. Then I would work at hostels and maybe do some bartending in north-western Europe (Amsterdam, Rotterdam, London, Edinburgh, Stockholm).
Step 3: Fly to northern Finland to work at a Husky farm. No, they do not raise huskies for sale in Chinese food markets. They breed and train huskies for sledding!
....and that is as far as I had planned for Plan A.
Plan B
Plan B is a truncated version of Plan A consisting of 3 steps.
Step 1: Keep my job but travel to Barcelona on June 12th and enjoy the Barcelona night-life for 10 days. What better way to avoid jet-lag by partying it up by night and sleeping by day?
Step 2: Every other weekend travel to a new city. I will start at those cities where I have friends who can guide me around.
Step 3: Sometime around September/October WWOOF and do fun jobs found at http://www.workaway.info/ until summer time 2014 when I can happily (and warmly) travel the European continent and stay at busy hostels.
Plan C
Plan C departs from the Euro-centricity of Plans A and B. Here is how it would happen:
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| My "Motorcycle Diaries" fantasy |
Step 1: Resign in October and move to the golden coast! Work a few odd jobs and spend time exploring the region. During my spare time I would work on my online businesses.
Step 2: Come end of May, fly to Central America with a friend or two. There rent/buy motorcycles or a van and criss-cross South America to Brazil. Time frame: 3 weeks.
Step 3: Partake in the crazy World Cup festivities throughout June.
Step 4: Leave Brazil in July.
Win-Win?
I'm worried it won't be a win-win. I'm scared I'll get depressed these next few months, especially when my injury keeps me from going outside and having fun without re-injuring my arm. But I think making the best out of bad situations keeps people sane. It's that or be sad and disappointed.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Moving Expenses; Worth it or Not?
It's been a while since I posted a new blog. Between watching The Tudors and setting up my wordpress blog, I have been neglecting this blog.
I got so entranced by The Tudors that I just had to watch the last two seasons in a week and a half. At first I watched half an episode during dinner. Then it became an entire episode per dinner. I knew it was a problem when I started to dream it and it officially became a major issue in my life when I started using Old English words in my daily conversations. My coworkers now use the word "grievous" around me...because it's an awesome word and sounds better and more educated than "grave" or "serious". They're not making fun at me at all.
So I watched the entire show and I've got to say that it never let me down. The last two seasons are more exciting than even the second season where Natalie Dormer becomes (SPOILER ALERT) the Queen. Yes, I am a big fan of her, especially of that signature seductive stare of hers.
But moving on. I'm hard at work to create a Wordpress blog documenting my progress as I diet and workout in accordance to Tim Ferris's 4-Hour Body. When I hand in my two week notice I will post a link to my wordpress blog, finally revealing my true identity!
On to my title, moving expenses.
Lately I've been stressed out deciding if I should send my stuff to my uncle's place in California for safe keeping or if I should sell everything, including my much loved flat screen computer monitor. Buying new things is always a possibility if I settle down somewhere (temporarily or permanently), but what if I don't have enough money by then? It also takes time to find the right things and buy them. To solve my mental suffering, I looked into prices.
Doing a quick Google search for "moving packing" I found more than enough companies to get quotes from. Every single one of them asked me to give them an e-mail address and full name before getting a quote. I absolutely hate this! Just give me the damn quote and then I might contact you! I don't need 10 moving companies spamming me for the next 2 months.
One company called me 30 seconds after I hit the "enter" button. They wouldn't give me a quote. All they wanted to do was chat. I think the guy was bored. After a short chat, I asked what my quote was (again) and he siad he couldn't give one to me. That information was administered by another department....which happened to be closed. I asked for the department's number and I hung up.
The other companies gave me quotes ranging from $1,200 to $2,300. Too much if you ask me. I don't even have that much worth in belongings! I made up my mind on the spot. I would have to say goodbye to my belongings. Except for a few posters, my flat screen computer monitor, clothes, and a few other items of sentimental value, everything else would be sold off or donated.
My last resort is to have a friend of mine who is moving to California take my stuff with him. That might be a cheaper option.
I got so entranced by The Tudors that I just had to watch the last two seasons in a week and a half. At first I watched half an episode during dinner. Then it became an entire episode per dinner. I knew it was a problem when I started to dream it and it officially became a major issue in my life when I started using Old English words in my daily conversations. My coworkers now use the word "grievous" around me...because it's an awesome word and sounds better and more educated than "grave" or "serious". They're not making fun at me at all. |
| She would get anything from me with that look |
So I watched the entire show and I've got to say that it never let me down. The last two seasons are more exciting than even the second season where Natalie Dormer becomes (SPOILER ALERT) the Queen. Yes, I am a big fan of her, especially of that signature seductive stare of hers.
But moving on. I'm hard at work to create a Wordpress blog documenting my progress as I diet and workout in accordance to Tim Ferris's 4-Hour Body. When I hand in my two week notice I will post a link to my wordpress blog, finally revealing my true identity!
On to my title, moving expenses.
Lately I've been stressed out deciding if I should send my stuff to my uncle's place in California for safe keeping or if I should sell everything, including my much loved flat screen computer monitor. Buying new things is always a possibility if I settle down somewhere (temporarily or permanently), but what if I don't have enough money by then? It also takes time to find the right things and buy them. To solve my mental suffering, I looked into prices.
Doing a quick Google search for "moving packing" I found more than enough companies to get quotes from. Every single one of them asked me to give them an e-mail address and full name before getting a quote. I absolutely hate this! Just give me the damn quote and then I might contact you! I don't need 10 moving companies spamming me for the next 2 months.
One company called me 30 seconds after I hit the "enter" button. They wouldn't give me a quote. All they wanted to do was chat. I think the guy was bored. After a short chat, I asked what my quote was (again) and he siad he couldn't give one to me. That information was administered by another department....which happened to be closed. I asked for the department's number and I hung up.
The other companies gave me quotes ranging from $1,200 to $2,300. Too much if you ask me. I don't even have that much worth in belongings! I made up my mind on the spot. I would have to say goodbye to my belongings. Except for a few posters, my flat screen computer monitor, clothes, and a few other items of sentimental value, everything else would be sold off or donated.
My last resort is to have a friend of mine who is moving to California take my stuff with him. That might be a cheaper option.
In conclusion: Use Common Sense
If the move costs more or the same as all your belongings combined, sell your stuff and buy new ones instead. As a side note, I have been called 13 times today and e-mailed 7 times by different packing and moving companies. Ugh.
Friday, March 29, 2013
An Assortment of Thoughts
As part of my travel preparation, I have been reading similar blogs to mine for ideas and inspiration. My favorite blog to date is My European Adventure by raisedbywildgrapes.
Raisedbywildgrapes left the great white north to explore the old country last year and has not gone back. I stumbled across her blog when I searched for "one-way ticket to Barcelona" on google. Expecting to find my blog post on my one-way ticket to Barcelona, I was surprised to find that another fledgling 23 year-old had had the same idea as me! This adventurous Canuck posts some great stories and is a really good read for those planning a long-term stay in Europe. Her stories on Italian Woofing have inspired me to trade meat and shoes for tofurkey and sandals for a few weeks after my first post-Jump leg of my trip. Here is the link to her posts on Woofing in La bella Italia! http://raisedbywildapes.wordpress.com/category/wwoofing/
It has come to my attention that the name I chose for this Google account could not be any lamer. Erik Explorer. Am I so unimaginative as to take Dora the Explorer's (No, I don't watch her show. I have young cousins) last name? In my defense, I was in a rush and want to keep my blog a secret from coworkers...no need to ruin the surprise of my resignation!
Raisedbywildgrapes left the great white north to explore the old country last year and has not gone back. I stumbled across her blog when I searched for "one-way ticket to Barcelona" on google. Expecting to find my blog post on my one-way ticket to Barcelona, I was surprised to find that another fledgling 23 year-old had had the same idea as me! This adventurous Canuck posts some great stories and is a really good read for those planning a long-term stay in Europe. Her stories on Italian Woofing have inspired me to trade meat and shoes for tofurkey and sandals for a few weeks after my first post-Jump leg of my trip. Here is the link to her posts on Woofing in La bella Italia! http://raisedbywildapes.wordpress.com/category/wwoofing/
On a separate note...
It has come to my attention that the name I chose for this Google account could not be any lamer. Erik Explorer. Am I so unimaginative as to take Dora the Explorer's (No, I don't watch her show. I have young cousins) last name? In my defense, I was in a rush and want to keep my blog a secret from coworkers...no need to ruin the surprise of my resignation!
This also brings up the question as to why I have no pics or details on me. The answer is pretty much the same. Anonymity...for now. Pictures to come soon in June!
Adventure Map
Looking for a way to distract my mind, I decided to sketch out the first 5 weeks of travel. Plans are subject to change.
KEY
Black spotted lines stand for travel by plane;
Solid red lines represent travel by train; and
Orange lines mean travel by boat.
These first 5 weeks will start and end in Barcelona. The five weeks are split into 6 stages:
1) Acclimatization - Adapt to time difference by enjoying the Barcelona nightlife. Time allotted - 2 days.
2) Jewels of the East - Visit beautiful Prague, go back in time to Bratislava, and admire Budapest in 7 days by train.
3) The Far East - Make it (alive) to Sofia, Bulgaria by train then explore the Bulgarian coast by bus as I make my way to Istanbul. Allotted time - 7 days
4) Island Hopping - Make it to Thessaloniki, Greece from Istanbul. Travel by boat to Los and Mykonos and end in Athens, all in 7 days.
5) Croatia - From Zagreb, make my way to the Croatian coast and visit its legendary and hidden towns and islands. Allotted time - 8 days
6) Return to Home Base - From Zagreb, take a plane back to Barcelona. Enjoy Barcelona for a few days to decide on a course of action. Do I want to return to one of the previous destinations? Where else do I want to go? Barcelona will be a time to touch base with myself.
This plan is tentative and subject to change on mood shifts, rash decisions and tired legs that refuse to walk another mile. Hopefully the fast pace of the trip will not be too much to handle. If it is, I'll stop and rest and rethink my plan.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Girlfriend...the end
My girlfriend and I broke up yesterday.
It wasn't terrible. It wasn't devastating. No lamps or plates were thrown. Angry, accusatory words never left either one of our lips.
Our break up was expected and we both had prepared for it. If anything it was sad, almost melancholic. Oddly enough, it was also relieving.
Sunday night we had a three hour long discussion on where we were going. Originally we had decided to wean ourselves from each other. A transition period defined by progressively limiting the time we spent together and doing "couples" things.
This transition period did not go well. The rules were broken more often than followed. We acted as if everything was ok, but behind the scenes my girlfriend's heart was being mercilessly crushed and I was emotionally taxed to an extent never experienced before. Finally she confronted me about it. She could do it no longer.
It was tough breaking up. I was hoping to slowly grow apart from our relationship and into a friendship. Having her disappear completely from my life was not something I wanted but it was unfair of me to expect her to easily transition into a friendship. After all, I was leaving her to pursue my dreams, leaving her alone.
Her greatest complaint was that I was not putting "us" before everything else. For the last few months of our relationship I had struggled with this accusation. I knew she was right, that I placed myself and my well being and future ahead of our mutual future, I just did not know why. I went through an existentialist retrospective period where I questioned myself, my actions and my direction in life. The central question though was why am I leaving such an amazing girl? Why would any guy do that?
It took me months to figure out that as a person, I am still figuring myself out. I do not have a complete feeling of "wholeness". It's as if I only know and can explain half of "me", who I am. The other half is still unclear to me. Not knowing myself fully and completely, and not knowing with 100% certainty what it was I wanted to do in life, I could not give my all to someone. I need to concentrate on myself, and be ok with myself before I can be ok with making promises and meaningful commitments to others. In summary, I was more than just hesitant to put all my energy in our relationship when, as a result of me not being "whole", I might change my mind or do things that would undermine our relationship. That was a risk I was not willing to make. The best part, the most relieving part of it was that she understood. She even said she was in a similar phase herself. We both agreed that while I deal with this lack of wholeness by doing radical things, she deals with it by getting more attached to, and depending on, people. We also agreed we should work on how we deal with these things.
We hugged a lot, were sad for a lot of it but still managed to smile and even laugh several times throughout the entire conversation on Wednesday. We agreed on no communication for a week, and then some texts. We'll see what happens. I miss her already and I know she misses me. But this will give us both time to move on with our lives and really get to know ourselves better. I feel like an 18 year old straight out of high school, not knowing what I want to do with my life. I guess we never really know. Eventually we have to decide on a path. For now, I have decided the path I chose is not the right one for me (for now) and I must try all the other paths before I stick to one, or create my own.
It was the best break up I could have ever hoped for. Mutual understanding out of love and respect made our break up peaceful. I feel like we will be friends and that the bridge between us has not been burned. Some day we might get back together. Maybe we will not. Either way, she will always have a very special place in my heart, and I know I will too in hers.
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| Maybe it's how her head rests on her hands, or the color of her hair, but this picture reminds me of her when she was sad |
Our break up was expected and we both had prepared for it. If anything it was sad, almost melancholic. Oddly enough, it was also relieving.
Sunday night we had a three hour long discussion on where we were going. Originally we had decided to wean ourselves from each other. A transition period defined by progressively limiting the time we spent together and doing "couples" things.
This transition period did not go well. The rules were broken more often than followed. We acted as if everything was ok, but behind the scenes my girlfriend's heart was being mercilessly crushed and I was emotionally taxed to an extent never experienced before. Finally she confronted me about it. She could do it no longer.
It was tough breaking up. I was hoping to slowly grow apart from our relationship and into a friendship. Having her disappear completely from my life was not something I wanted but it was unfair of me to expect her to easily transition into a friendship. After all, I was leaving her to pursue my dreams, leaving her alone.
Her greatest complaint was that I was not putting "us" before everything else. For the last few months of our relationship I had struggled with this accusation. I knew she was right, that I placed myself and my well being and future ahead of our mutual future, I just did not know why. I went through an existentialist retrospective period where I questioned myself, my actions and my direction in life. The central question though was why am I leaving such an amazing girl? Why would any guy do that?
It took me months to figure out that as a person, I am still figuring myself out. I do not have a complete feeling of "wholeness". It's as if I only know and can explain half of "me", who I am. The other half is still unclear to me. Not knowing myself fully and completely, and not knowing with 100% certainty what it was I wanted to do in life, I could not give my all to someone. I need to concentrate on myself, and be ok with myself before I can be ok with making promises and meaningful commitments to others. In summary, I was more than just hesitant to put all my energy in our relationship when, as a result of me not being "whole", I might change my mind or do things that would undermine our relationship. That was a risk I was not willing to make. The best part, the most relieving part of it was that she understood. She even said she was in a similar phase herself. We both agreed that while I deal with this lack of wholeness by doing radical things, she deals with it by getting more attached to, and depending on, people. We also agreed we should work on how we deal with these things.
We hugged a lot, were sad for a lot of it but still managed to smile and even laugh several times throughout the entire conversation on Wednesday. We agreed on no communication for a week, and then some texts. We'll see what happens. I miss her already and I know she misses me. But this will give us both time to move on with our lives and really get to know ourselves better. I feel like an 18 year old straight out of high school, not knowing what I want to do with my life. I guess we never really know. Eventually we have to decide on a path. For now, I have decided the path I chose is not the right one for me (for now) and I must try all the other paths before I stick to one, or create my own.
It was the best break up I could have ever hoped for. Mutual understanding out of love and respect made our break up peaceful. I feel like we will be friends and that the bridge between us has not been burned. Some day we might get back together. Maybe we will not. Either way, she will always have a very special place in my heart, and I know I will too in hers.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Traction
I'm very inspired today. The feeling I'm experiencing is similar to a bear waking up from a winter slumber. Waking up at 11 am, my first stop was the kitchen where I prepared a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast, chocolate milk, yogurt with apple and nuts. Leaning back to a bed of pillows, I watched all four episodes of the new History show, Vikings.
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| Egg pan, compliments of my mom before I left to college. Moms never intentionally mean to embarrass us, but are nonetheless very good at doing so. I kept this miniature pan hidden until now, which I use to make perfectly round scrambled eggs for bagels. |
My wonderful, 3 hour breakfast-in-bed-watching-tv splurge was followed not by preoccupations of how I would make a living after leaving my job, or brooding over how stressful and burdensome life can be (I'm thinking taxes and laundry). Instead I felt full of life, happily moving my furniture around and redecorating my room, shirtless. Perhaps that is too much information, but its been a while since I've done that. My roommate and I aren't that close and the house has been cold all winter. But I somehow didn't feel cold and I felt that despite the pressure to get things in order before my move, everything would be ok.
Sitting outside on my porch in a hoodie and pj pants, watching the sun go down, I feel a flame of inspiration and hopefulness in me. I want to do a sun salutation, plateauing in a handstand and ending in perfect formation on my porch. A relic of my college days when I got hooked on yoga and took every possible class I could. I'll admit it, I first took yoga to meet girls but by session 4 I was always in the first row instead of the back row. Needles to say, to this day my male friends don't like to talk about my yoga obsession but my mom is very proud.
Unfortunately I am still going through physical therapy for my right shoulder sports injury. I opt instead to go back inside to escape the 40 degree weather and plug my laptop to my Bose speakers to listen to some Calvin Harris.
Oh but where was I? Oh yes, Traction.
Traction
With spring here and April almost upon us, the countdown stands at 11 weeks and 4 days to my departure to Barcelona. 9 weeks, 6 days to my last day at work and 6 weeks, 4 days until I break the news to my supervisor and, harder yet, to my coworkers. The end of this 9-5 journey is definitely palpable. I could try and fight it but inevitably I will have to confront those days. I can meet them prepared or unprepared, and I'd rather do the former.
Deciding to take The Jump really got me going in this new direction. Buying my one-way ticket to Barcelona marked the transition from thinking to doing and writing this blog reminds me of the promise I made to myself; to explore and enjoy life.
Traction in the world of entrepreneurship means validation by your target market of your product. In other words, the point when consumers of your product accept and use/purchase the product/service and thus get the ball rolling for your idea. In my case, my idea is my trip and validation are external events that get me going on my trip going. For example, having a plane ticket pushes me to look at transportation and other costs in Eastern Europe. Researching costs helps shape my travel route. Another example would be the self-imposed resignation deadline and its effect on how I save money and mentally prepare to leave my job. That, in essence, is traction. Traction is also comparable to momentum like this seal rolling down a hill.
Traction and Happines
I think that my improved mood this week has a lot to do with traction. Life is pretty much the same at the surface, yet underneath the mundane I am preparing myself in many ways to leave. As the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter, the brighter my days get.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Hey Kid, You Running Away?
Some days I feel completely demoralized. Doubts creep up on me and everything I do becomes a metaphor, a symbol, any reason not to go on my new path or to question my new path (for non-depressing reading, skip to the below meme)
Questioning my path is good. I reevaluate and reexamine in different lights and as a result gain new perspectives. That is good. It's bad when these thoughts are crippling. Today I was going to write about these doubts, my fears and the crippling anxiety. But I'm not going to.
The one thing that keeps me going and strengthens my resolve is laughing at the ridiculousness of my previous adventures or just laughing about life itself. Life is great and it must be enjoyed at its fullest. I will bask in the glory of having lived adventurously...and in the silliness of enjoying the simple and random, like the picture below.
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| Random, unrelated meme I chose only because it made me laugh |
My first pre-adventure
Let's tie what has been written so far to the title; "Hey Kid, You Running Away?"
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| The old guy was less cool and more creepy than this old gangsta |
How did I get to telling him things you might ask. Well quite honestly (and I hate to admit it) he skillfully employed player tactics to get me to reluctantly talk to him like a stuck up hot girl at a bar reluctantly talks to the persistent d-bag in the bar. I hated every moment but could not shake him off! To all those girls out there I ever forcefully entered a conversation with, I sincerely apologize.
It all started with the bad decision to sit a few seats over from an old lady and her 10 shopping bags.
That was my first mistake. Never sit next to or close to people with groceries! Only crackheads and the homeless buy groceries in one city before boarding a greyhound bus to transport "groceries" to the next city. Dig in through the grocery bags (I don't recommend it, they'll stab you with a needle if you do) and you'll find meth and weed beneath the lettuce leafs suspiciously placed over the other items.
The 10 shopping bags turned out to belong to an old lady and her older male friend. At a glance they seemed like an ordinary, lower middle class couple. It wasn't until the old man approached me that I noticed that under the hoodie his matted hair and dark eye circles gave him the appearance of a runaway serial killer. He asked me if I could keep an eye out on their precious cargo while he and, in his own words, "new lady friend" grabbed a cup of coffee from the small greyhound store 10 feet away. I told him that was fine but that I might have to leave soon.
When they came back 10 mins later, the man extended a smelly hand to thank me. I knew something was wrong. No, it wasn't that each finger had a different tatto on it or that he approached me angling his body sideways. If I had to take a wild guess it was the mischievous look in his eyes, his invasion of my personal space and his deep, low almost whispering voice.
I tried shrugging him away after I reluctantly shook his dirty hand. Shaking his hand was the hardest thing I had done in months. I had no purel hand sanitizer on hand and I wanted to eat my chips. What kept me from not shaking his hand was the fear of a bloody needle piercing my neck in a split instant.
He asked my name to which I gave the fastest bogus name I could come up with: Derrick Erickson. He then asked me where I was going. Half scared to death, but still keeping my wits with me, I replied with an answer: "where are you going?". If he said Nashville I was cancelling my ticket. Luckily he said Cincinnati. "Phew! That was a close one!" I thought to myself. I was only half right.
The guy proceeded to ask me where I lived. I bluntly asked him why he wanted to know. He avoided the question by asking me if I was looking for a job to which I replied no. My answer went over his head as he asked if I could make a side-trip to Cincinnati to interview with him and his arthritis gang for a job. Cincinnati was east and I was heading south so a little out of my way. He then asked if I could see him at his hotel at a sketchy part of town, offering me the offer of a lifetime to do anything I wished to do. Again I had to refuse.
You may be asking, how did I escape? Easily. Old man and lady lover (who by the way had dried up blood on her nose) were going to white castle for a late night snack. When I politely refused to go with them they asked if I could keep an eye out on their groceries. This time I happily obliged. Anything to make them leave! When they were gone, I snuck off to the opposite end of the building and sat behind a pillar. I still texted a friend all the physical descriptors I could of the duo. They could always come back...
My adventure to Nashville and back was pretty cool. Too many stories to share in one blog post, but one quick one to share is the moment I realized the source of the poop smell in the bus. The source was in fact a used diaper, wait for it, UNDER MY SEAT!! Not about to reach for it, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
That was my first mistake. Never sit next to or close to people with groceries! Only crackheads and the homeless buy groceries in one city before boarding a greyhound bus to transport "groceries" to the next city. Dig in through the grocery bags (I don't recommend it, they'll stab you with a needle if you do) and you'll find meth and weed beneath the lettuce leafs suspiciously placed over the other items.
The 10 shopping bags turned out to belong to an old lady and her older male friend. At a glance they seemed like an ordinary, lower middle class couple. It wasn't until the old man approached me that I noticed that under the hoodie his matted hair and dark eye circles gave him the appearance of a runaway serial killer. He asked me if I could keep an eye out on their precious cargo while he and, in his own words, "new lady friend" grabbed a cup of coffee from the small greyhound store 10 feet away. I told him that was fine but that I might have to leave soon.
When they came back 10 mins later, the man extended a smelly hand to thank me. I knew something was wrong. No, it wasn't that each finger had a different tatto on it or that he approached me angling his body sideways. If I had to take a wild guess it was the mischievous look in his eyes, his invasion of my personal space and his deep, low almost whispering voice.
I tried shrugging him away after I reluctantly shook his dirty hand. Shaking his hand was the hardest thing I had done in months. I had no purel hand sanitizer on hand and I wanted to eat my chips. What kept me from not shaking his hand was the fear of a bloody needle piercing my neck in a split instant.
He asked my name to which I gave the fastest bogus name I could come up with: Derrick Erickson. He then asked me where I was going. Half scared to death, but still keeping my wits with me, I replied with an answer: "where are you going?". If he said Nashville I was cancelling my ticket. Luckily he said Cincinnati. "Phew! That was a close one!" I thought to myself. I was only half right.
The guy proceeded to ask me where I lived. I bluntly asked him why he wanted to know. He avoided the question by asking me if I was looking for a job to which I replied no. My answer went over his head as he asked if I could make a side-trip to Cincinnati to interview with him and his arthritis gang for a job. Cincinnati was east and I was heading south so a little out of my way. He then asked if I could see him at his hotel at a sketchy part of town, offering me the offer of a lifetime to do anything I wished to do. Again I had to refuse.
You may be asking, how did I escape? Easily. Old man and lady lover (who by the way had dried up blood on her nose) were going to white castle for a late night snack. When I politely refused to go with them they asked if I could keep an eye out on their groceries. This time I happily obliged. Anything to make them leave! When they were gone, I snuck off to the opposite end of the building and sat behind a pillar. I still texted a friend all the physical descriptors I could of the duo. They could always come back...
My adventure to Nashville and back was pretty cool. Too many stories to share in one blog post, but one quick one to share is the moment I realized the source of the poop smell in the bus. The source was in fact a used diaper, wait for it, UNDER MY SEAT!! Not about to reach for it, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
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