I had stayed in Austin too long on the day I intended to leave and by the time I was walking down the highway with my thumb to the road, the sun was already setting and it is hard to find someone willing to pick up the Kodiak in the night. I walked several miles and someone pulled over and offered a ride to the next town and I took the offer.
He started asking me about how much money I had on me, and when I pulled out my cell phone to check the time, he asked about that as well in a very obvious manner. He attempted to come off as intimidating so when he finally noticed my laptop bag and asked what I had in there, I answered in a way that I knew would silence his questions.
"I'll tell you what I have on me. I've got a knife in my pocket to protect all my other things with me."
He dropped me off at the next exit after that, at the local gas station.
I walked a little longer and had given up hitching for the night as the clock struck ten that night. I began just walking to find a church to sleep behind until a pickup truck drove up beside me and the driver asked where I was going. I told him Dallas, and he said he was going to the same. He said his wife had just told him that she was considering divorce so he was going to Dallas to see his brother and play a round of golf for the weekend. Along the way, he told me all about his children and I told him about my journey so far.
We reached Lancaster, on the outside of Dallas, and I asked if he would just drop me off at a local motel for the evening. I was about to get out of his truck and he said that he would like to pay for my room for the night. I ended up getting a free room there thanks to him, but also suffered the first casualty along the trip since I left my cell phone in his truck. I'm working on getting another one now, and will have it as soon as possible.
I'm not sure how long I'll be in Dallas. It all depends on where the wind blows me.
Regards from Kodiak.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
A Late Update
It is six in the evening, and I am just now waking up to write an entry about the night before. I went to sleep about 10:45 this morning, after spending a majority of the night at Epoch Coffee, trying to some form of conscious and awake. But let me Tarantino this one and go back a little bit.
Yesterday morning, I was walking down Guadalupe and trying to find something that would make my day and my blog more interesting. First of all, I stopped in a Texadelphia because of how hungry I was, and if you've never had their cheesesteak, I would suggest you closing my blog and immediately leaving for the nearest location (preferably going to the original Texadelphia like I did) and I sat and finished a few more chapters of Watchmen while I enjoyed my cheesesteak. Not too interesting so far, but damn delicious.
Afterwards, I went strolling again and walked past the Church of Scientology (maybe I'll go get my thetan levels tested before I leave and write an entry about it), before coming up on a small bookstore called Brave New Books. I am not one for conspiracy theories personally, but considering that the day before hadn't had much conversation at all, I thought somewhere like this would give me a few people talk to; and that was right. I was in the store for the longest time talking to the two owners and various customers that came in and I certainly heard my share of theories. However, the owners are charismatic and very friendly and for all the things we disagreed on, we agreed on almost as many.
Eventually, a man that looked a little like a short Shaggy from Scooby-Doo walked in and I began talking to him for a while. The store was closing shortly afterwards and so all of us parted ways but we managed to cross paths again. Considering that marijuana decriminalization was a topic of choice that day, I asked him if he knew where to find any and he told me he had some if I wanted to smoke it with him.
Yes. Yes, I did.
Throughout the night and into the early morning, we sat and had a beer and about three bowls and talked about our experiences and our worldview. He is a traveler, much like myself, and many of our motives and ideals matched. We had such a great time talking and sharing the company of each other that I hardly noticed how early it was. I had lost my chance to stay with my CouchSurfing host for the night.
I tried to argue with myself about getting a hotel again, and I lost the argument to good logic so I kept walking the streets. I met a seedy guy on the bus circling town, who had apparently just paid a poor homeless drug-addicted girl to do a few favors to him. God, I wanted to hit him. He disgusted me, the way he talked about another human being that happened to be down on her luck at the moment and the way he abused her.
I eventually had to get off so I wouldn't have to hear him talk about it any longer, so I ended up hitching to get a ride to Epoch Coffee since I knew they were open all night. It only took me about forty-five seconds to hitch a ride to here, from an older bearded man wearing a "Keep Austin Weird" tee. I love the people here.
I ended up conversing with a new friend in Epoch until the morning came around, and I got a ride from his friend back to the host's apartment. I crashed as soon as I got here, and I'm waking up now to maybe do it or something similar all over again.
Regards from Kodiak.
Yesterday morning, I was walking down Guadalupe and trying to find something that would make my day and my blog more interesting. First of all, I stopped in a Texadelphia because of how hungry I was, and if you've never had their cheesesteak, I would suggest you closing my blog and immediately leaving for the nearest location (preferably going to the original Texadelphia like I did) and I sat and finished a few more chapters of Watchmen while I enjoyed my cheesesteak. Not too interesting so far, but damn delicious.
Afterwards, I went strolling again and walked past the Church of Scientology (maybe I'll go get my thetan levels tested before I leave and write an entry about it), before coming up on a small bookstore called Brave New Books. I am not one for conspiracy theories personally, but considering that the day before hadn't had much conversation at all, I thought somewhere like this would give me a few people talk to; and that was right. I was in the store for the longest time talking to the two owners and various customers that came in and I certainly heard my share of theories. However, the owners are charismatic and very friendly and for all the things we disagreed on, we agreed on almost as many.
Eventually, a man that looked a little like a short Shaggy from Scooby-Doo walked in and I began talking to him for a while. The store was closing shortly afterwards and so all of us parted ways but we managed to cross paths again. Considering that marijuana decriminalization was a topic of choice that day, I asked him if he knew where to find any and he told me he had some if I wanted to smoke it with him.
Yes. Yes, I did.
Throughout the night and into the early morning, we sat and had a beer and about three bowls and talked about our experiences and our worldview. He is a traveler, much like myself, and many of our motives and ideals matched. We had such a great time talking and sharing the company of each other that I hardly noticed how early it was. I had lost my chance to stay with my CouchSurfing host for the night.
I tried to argue with myself about getting a hotel again, and I lost the argument to good logic so I kept walking the streets. I met a seedy guy on the bus circling town, who had apparently just paid a poor homeless drug-addicted girl to do a few favors to him. God, I wanted to hit him. He disgusted me, the way he talked about another human being that happened to be down on her luck at the moment and the way he abused her.
I eventually had to get off so I wouldn't have to hear him talk about it any longer, so I ended up hitching to get a ride to Epoch Coffee since I knew they were open all night. It only took me about forty-five seconds to hitch a ride to here, from an older bearded man wearing a "Keep Austin Weird" tee. I love the people here.
I ended up conversing with a new friend in Epoch until the morning came around, and I got a ride from his friend back to the host's apartment. I crashed as soon as I got here, and I'm waking up now to maybe do it or something similar all over again.
Regards from Kodiak.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Beginning To Crash?
I woke up this morning and began to let my day fold itself out and for some reason, I feel trapped inside myself. I couldn't exactly explain why, but yesterday, when I felt a desire to hear every conversation around me, is gone now. I am completely happy now sitting next to a construction site and listening to Bob Dylan wail out Desolation Row over my earbuds and type for a little while on my laptop.
I never heard back from Daniel about the recording session so I assume that I won't be blogging about that. Either way, I'm happy to be in Austin where there is plenty to do no matter what plans change. Leaving here is going to be bittersweet; I'm eager to move on to other places but everything just feels so right here. I've got until the end of the week and hopefully, I'll tire of it by then.
Even with the little of bad or negative sides that have come out of this, I'm still completely content with my decision. There hasn't been a moment, even with the blistered feet and closed-minded looks, that I have thought about regretting my decision in this.
The last hindrance I am working on overcoming is sleeping outside, I still have my worries concerning that. I know that they are ill-founded and the very fact that I still have them is contradictory to my preaching in and of itself but I still do. Hopefully, with time, I'll get over that and be able to pursue this more fully.
There might not be another update today, and if there is, it might be a pretty small one. I just feel like enjoying a beautiful day through giving it my complete attention.
I never heard back from Daniel about the recording session so I assume that I won't be blogging about that. Either way, I'm happy to be in Austin where there is plenty to do no matter what plans change. Leaving here is going to be bittersweet; I'm eager to move on to other places but everything just feels so right here. I've got until the end of the week and hopefully, I'll tire of it by then.
Even with the little of bad or negative sides that have come out of this, I'm still completely content with my decision. There hasn't been a moment, even with the blistered feet and closed-minded looks, that I have thought about regretting my decision in this.
The last hindrance I am working on overcoming is sleeping outside, I still have my worries concerning that. I know that they are ill-founded and the very fact that I still have them is contradictory to my preaching in and of itself but I still do. Hopefully, with time, I'll get over that and be able to pursue this more fully.
There might not be another update today, and if there is, it might be a pretty small one. I just feel like enjoying a beautiful day through giving it my complete attention.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Another Night And What Two Days On The Road Shows You
Originally, I thought that my night was going to conclude with preparing my sleeping bag in the nearby camping ground and I really didn't think any part of that was enough to justify a whole new entry. However, "Life is what happens when you're making other plans" sang Lennon and that is exactly how my evening played out.
I decided to take public transportation to the couch that had been offered to me for the night, thinking that the directions were simple enough that I didn't need to write them down or even try to harshly commit them to memory. Needless to say, I was just riding on a bus down the middle of Austin with no basic hints of where to go and I started playing with the mentality of breaking down and getting a room for the night. Slowly, I began noticing the streets we were driving perpendicular against; I saw 3rd Street, then 4th Street, then 5th Street.
6th Street. The epitome of everything that makes Austin such a cultural area; an endless supply of counterculture, live music, and a few more adult locations. I already was lost, but sometimes when you lose your way, it is really just as well. I decided to stop and walk around a little while.
Up until this point in my journey, I've still been sheltered. At The Bugle Boy, everybody was very welcoming and kind; and the only other people that had really seen me were the drivers I hitched with (not counting Skip and the couple that hosted us). Tonight, I saw the other side that I'm not going to be welcomed by everyone and many are going to look down upon it. I walked down the street passing clubs and bars on the left and right with my backpack on my person, and was continously greeted by looks of distaste (that was, of course, whenever I even got looks; most looked away when I was coming). The bouncers would announce specials of the evening to men in suits then never when I was passing.
There were exceptions to the rule, however. I came upon a group of street performers playing a more cultural cover of Purple Haze. I began to join in with a little vocal work, and had a conversation with a few of them, before the police broke us up and told us that we couldn't play there anymore. I was back at my original position again, walking down the street with the same looks in my direction.
That was when I started thinking, this lifestyle is comparable to high school; when you love this girl or guy more than anything else and you love them more every day, but it is never returned and is possibly shunned. I begin to pick up more interest in the people around me every day, I find myself listening to conversations because I am genuinely interested in what they have to say. Sadly, at the same time, I still get more of those same looks in return. My love and interest still continues though.
I finally came back to my mentality of settling down in a comfortable hotel for the evening and came to another bus stop. I was sitting there for a moment, when an older man came up to me and stuck out his hand for a power fist and wished me well, and as I assume anyone would, I returned it. He told me that I had been the first to wish him well in return, and told me his thoughts on it in a very spirited manner. He told me all about how you will never matter to some people because you don't have enough money for their class.
It can be funny how life can show you lessons when you are too stubborn to see them yourself.
I boarded the bus afterwards and met a helpful man that told me parts of his story and assisted me in finding a cheap hotel for the night. Upon reaching the IHOP near the hotel, I had the strangest sense that I had been here before. It turns out that two years ago, I had attended a conference that a friend invited me to concerning ways to make money and become self-made millionaires.
Life can also show you how your priorities were changed in such a short time.
Two years ago, I was greeted with the most passionate smiles and friendly attitudes because a millionaire was sitting with us and he made it very evident based on his attire and attitude. If you go forward two years, you see a tired and weary man enter the same restaurant with a backpack, and he is put in the back of the restaurant and barely spoken to.
Yet, I am happier now than I was then, regardless of the treatment I receive from others. I really don't think little things like this will change that.
I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow and it is just after midnight, so I'll call this it for tonight. No worries, and may we all meet in the valley before we meet in the plain.
I decided to take public transportation to the couch that had been offered to me for the night, thinking that the directions were simple enough that I didn't need to write them down or even try to harshly commit them to memory. Needless to say, I was just riding on a bus down the middle of Austin with no basic hints of where to go and I started playing with the mentality of breaking down and getting a room for the night. Slowly, I began noticing the streets we were driving perpendicular against; I saw 3rd Street, then 4th Street, then 5th Street.
6th Street. The epitome of everything that makes Austin such a cultural area; an endless supply of counterculture, live music, and a few more adult locations. I already was lost, but sometimes when you lose your way, it is really just as well. I decided to stop and walk around a little while.
Up until this point in my journey, I've still been sheltered. At The Bugle Boy, everybody was very welcoming and kind; and the only other people that had really seen me were the drivers I hitched with (not counting Skip and the couple that hosted us). Tonight, I saw the other side that I'm not going to be welcomed by everyone and many are going to look down upon it. I walked down the street passing clubs and bars on the left and right with my backpack on my person, and was continously greeted by looks of distaste (that was, of course, whenever I even got looks; most looked away when I was coming). The bouncers would announce specials of the evening to men in suits then never when I was passing.
There were exceptions to the rule, however. I came upon a group of street performers playing a more cultural cover of Purple Haze. I began to join in with a little vocal work, and had a conversation with a few of them, before the police broke us up and told us that we couldn't play there anymore. I was back at my original position again, walking down the street with the same looks in my direction.
That was when I started thinking, this lifestyle is comparable to high school; when you love this girl or guy more than anything else and you love them more every day, but it is never returned and is possibly shunned. I begin to pick up more interest in the people around me every day, I find myself listening to conversations because I am genuinely interested in what they have to say. Sadly, at the same time, I still get more of those same looks in return. My love and interest still continues though.
I finally came back to my mentality of settling down in a comfortable hotel for the evening and came to another bus stop. I was sitting there for a moment, when an older man came up to me and stuck out his hand for a power fist and wished me well, and as I assume anyone would, I returned it. He told me that I had been the first to wish him well in return, and told me his thoughts on it in a very spirited manner. He told me all about how you will never matter to some people because you don't have enough money for their class.
It can be funny how life can show you lessons when you are too stubborn to see them yourself.
I boarded the bus afterwards and met a helpful man that told me parts of his story and assisted me in finding a cheap hotel for the night. Upon reaching the IHOP near the hotel, I had the strangest sense that I had been here before. It turns out that two years ago, I had attended a conference that a friend invited me to concerning ways to make money and become self-made millionaires.
Life can also show you how your priorities were changed in such a short time.
Two years ago, I was greeted with the most passionate smiles and friendly attitudes because a millionaire was sitting with us and he made it very evident based on his attire and attitude. If you go forward two years, you see a tired and weary man enter the same restaurant with a backpack, and he is put in the back of the restaurant and barely spoken to.
Yet, I am happier now than I was then, regardless of the treatment I receive from others. I really don't think little things like this will change that.
I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow and it is just after midnight, so I'll call this it for tonight. No worries, and may we all meet in the valley before we meet in the plain.
My Entrance Into Austin
Today was certainly an experience. By the end of this entry, you'll hear about an aging hippie with a van filled with Mexican pastries, a roll-on comedian that gets an undeserved reaction, and how the Cody draws all the ladies to him.
I left from the house I was staying and began down the road with Skip, until I felt how every step tortured me so I split directions with him to go my own way again. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, a van pulled over with an elderly man in it. I opened the back door to place my baggage there, and was welcomed immediately by a flood of pastries wrapped in colorful labels with Spanish print. I felt like Noah, had Noah been troubled by a great flood of candy.
Actually, wouldn't that make all the stories from the Bible just a wee bit better? Jesus could've healed the blind man, then given him a lollipop. Zaccheus climbed a tree just to see Christ, imagine how high he would've climbed for a Klondike Bar.
Over the course of the ride, he told me stories about how he dropped acid during the Nixon administration and how he was growing some mushrooms out on his land. I told him I haven't smoked in a while, he told me that he would've given some to me if he hadn't smoked it himself on a previous highway. He also explained to me how Albert Hoffman and Elvis were his two predictions on the Messiah, because of how Hoffman turned us on to such a visually stimulating and spiritually enlightening resource, and Elvis taught white people that it is okay to have fun. Eventually, he dropped me off next to a bus stop in Austin, and wished me luck.
First, I headed to the only place that made sense, Jack In The Box. Jack has been there for me so many times before, why not be there for me when I come to him with open arms and sore feet?
Maybe I should make another personal revision to the Bible mentioned above, maybe Jack is the second coming. Instead of dealing with salvation and eternal damnation, he deals with sourdough bread and curly fries. I really need to stop being offensive, that can get you kicked off a bus.
Speaking of being kicked off a bus, I decided to relax and watch people get on and off a bus for about two hours of my day. Nobody ever told me how cold and silent some people in Austin can be. The first person that actually talked to me was a wheelchair-bound man that introduced himself as a roll-on comedian. He told three other men and me some lines and jokes that slowly become a tad politically incorrect and the bus driver forced him off the bus because of it. I met a new friend, Daniel, that helped cause a little bit of a commotion over the issue. It didn't do any good, but damn, it felt right.
I ended up conversing with Daniel and found out he was a recording engineer and got invited to a recording session tomorrow with a jazz artist, which I am looking forward to attending. I also got to relax at his place for an hour or two.
I haven't decided how sleeping will work tonight, I have a couch across town offered to me, or a camping ground within five minutes of me. Is comfort really worth paying for a cab to drive me across Austin? I'm debating that right now.
"Albert Hoffman and Elvis are my two nominations for the Messiah, the second coming of Christ"
"What do Dale Earndhart and Pink Floyd have in common? Their biggest hits were The Wall."
I left from the house I was staying and began down the road with Skip, until I felt how every step tortured me so I split directions with him to go my own way again. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, a van pulled over with an elderly man in it. I opened the back door to place my baggage there, and was welcomed immediately by a flood of pastries wrapped in colorful labels with Spanish print. I felt like Noah, had Noah been troubled by a great flood of candy.
Actually, wouldn't that make all the stories from the Bible just a wee bit better? Jesus could've healed the blind man, then given him a lollipop. Zaccheus climbed a tree just to see Christ, imagine how high he would've climbed for a Klondike Bar.
Over the course of the ride, he told me stories about how he dropped acid during the Nixon administration and how he was growing some mushrooms out on his land. I told him I haven't smoked in a while, he told me that he would've given some to me if he hadn't smoked it himself on a previous highway. He also explained to me how Albert Hoffman and Elvis were his two predictions on the Messiah, because of how Hoffman turned us on to such a visually stimulating and spiritually enlightening resource, and Elvis taught white people that it is okay to have fun. Eventually, he dropped me off next to a bus stop in Austin, and wished me luck.
First, I headed to the only place that made sense, Jack In The Box. Jack has been there for me so many times before, why not be there for me when I come to him with open arms and sore feet?
Maybe I should make another personal revision to the Bible mentioned above, maybe Jack is the second coming. Instead of dealing with salvation and eternal damnation, he deals with sourdough bread and curly fries. I really need to stop being offensive, that can get you kicked off a bus.
Speaking of being kicked off a bus, I decided to relax and watch people get on and off a bus for about two hours of my day. Nobody ever told me how cold and silent some people in Austin can be. The first person that actually talked to me was a wheelchair-bound man that introduced himself as a roll-on comedian. He told three other men and me some lines and jokes that slowly become a tad politically incorrect and the bus driver forced him off the bus because of it. I met a new friend, Daniel, that helped cause a little bit of a commotion over the issue. It didn't do any good, but damn, it felt right.
I ended up conversing with Daniel and found out he was a recording engineer and got invited to a recording session tomorrow with a jazz artist, which I am looking forward to attending. I also got to relax at his place for an hour or two.
I haven't decided how sleeping will work tonight, I have a couch across town offered to me, or a camping ground within five minutes of me. Is comfort really worth paying for a cab to drive me across Austin? I'm debating that right now.
"Albert Hoffman and Elvis are my two nominations for the Messiah, the second coming of Christ"
"What do Dale Earndhart and Pink Floyd have in common? Their biggest hits were The Wall."
When The Morning Came
Already after only one day, a hot shower, a comfortable couch, and a bowl of Frosted Flakes feels like a luxury and something I feel lucky to have this particular morning. In fact, the only thing in the world that is hurting me right now is my feet.
I've always heard people say that they have blisters on their blisters when they are sore and I have always thought of it like an exaggerated farce, but that isn't the case. Upon taking care of one of my many blisters this morning, I found yet another blister directly under the one before it. Even with some aid, I will have to see exactly how well I will be able to walk on it over the course of the day. I might end up hitching some more if I have any trouble walking on it.
Skip suggested I get a bicycle in Austin for the two-hundred miles of nothing between Austin and San Angelo. I might do that, or possibly try to find some interesting people that are driving that distance. I'll update you when I decide for myself what I'm going to do.
That has become one of the most loved parts of my journey even after such a short time so far, it is the ideal that I don't have anything holding me back. At any moment, if I hear about something in the complete opposite direction of my current route, I can just turn around and head that way.
Sorry if I'm not as witty for this entry, I will update more later tonight.
I've always heard people say that they have blisters on their blisters when they are sore and I have always thought of it like an exaggerated farce, but that isn't the case. Upon taking care of one of my many blisters this morning, I found yet another blister directly under the one before it. Even with some aid, I will have to see exactly how well I will be able to walk on it over the course of the day. I might end up hitching some more if I have any trouble walking on it.
Skip suggested I get a bicycle in Austin for the two-hundred miles of nothing between Austin and San Angelo. I might do that, or possibly try to find some interesting people that are driving that distance. I'll update you when I decide for myself what I'm going to do.
That has become one of the most loved parts of my journey even after such a short time so far, it is the ideal that I don't have anything holding me back. At any moment, if I hear about something in the complete opposite direction of my current route, I can just turn around and head that way.
Sorry if I'm not as witty for this entry, I will update more later tonight.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
My First Day (And Continuing Thoughts)
I'm sitting here on my sleeping bag, under a sign at Highway 71 and Green Acres Loop, I figured this would be a good time to go ahead and write my entry for today. First, a little more thought on last night.
Sitting in The Bugle Boy, I just cannot help to think about what an interesting yet small place La Grange is to start this sort of venture. I sat and started thinking about how my story was just beginning and took a look around at the women and men in the room on the other side of their years and I couldn't help but think about all of these people about twenty or thirty years ago when the infamous Chicken Ranch was still open.
You see, not many people move or relocate to La Grange; it is the sort of town that if you were born in it, you'll probably end up dying there too (and if you die there, chances are you were born there too). Needless to say, a majority of the people in that room grew up with La Grange and saw the tainted history behind it. I look at this crowd and wonder which of the women of today were the prostitutes of yesterday. Not in an arousing sense, mind you, but just one of intrigue; that these women and men had, in their own small way, purchased their little slice of history (whether it be through a really special birthday present that welcomed a young man into adulthood, or an old man that received the little bit of human contact before he departed this world). These people have stories, and I could spend a hundred lifetimes listening and enjoying them. But it was late, and I had my own story to start on. As Kerouac said, "the road is life."
That night, I laid out my sleeping bag under the stars and the headlights of vehicles that passed me by on the highway, each with their own destination and reason for seeking it. Over the night, I discovered that no matter how well you think you can handle the weather of your home state, you shouldn't buy the cheaper sleeping bag. I got through the cold weather and awoke the next morning to Skip bundling up his gear and preparing for the day.
After walking a few miles, we stopped at a locally owned breakfast diner and had a decent meal. I sat down to a burrito that had been bathed in melted cheese and raped by eggs, bacon, sausage, cheese, and several other fillings that I don't bring to memory, either by taste or appearance.
Heh, maybe I should be worried about that.
We left down a backroad and traversed it for about five or six miles before the water (which came from a well, apparently) and the burrito that I had disemboweled and pulled from its lake of cheese earlier began to discuss matters that shouldn't be discussed in my stomach and suddenly for obvious (and therefore, undisclosed) reasons, I needed to use a restroom immediately. There weren't any businesses for a few more miles and right after I suggested to Skip that we keep walking, the burrito assumably delivered a sucker-punch to the water. The final round was coming and I was a tad fearful over which consumable would be losing (because it didn't matter who lost, it meant I lost something too).
I went to a residential house and asked them if I could use their restroom and fill up my water bottle. Luckily, they didn't have an issue with that, so everything was appropriately handled and we were off again.
We had reached a total of about nine miles and Skip noticed that I looked weary and suggested to me that I hitch a ride for the rest of the way and wait for him to catch up with me. It sounded reasonable, and I think I set a pretty decent mark for my first day with someone from my physical condition going nine miles on the first day of travel. I stuck out my thumb and waited for a ride. It took about seven or eight minutes then I was lucky enough to be picked up by a man on his way to Austin to see about an ill friend of his (and whether you read this or not, sir, I wish you and your friend the best). We talked for a little while, and once we reached my destination, went our parting ways.
That leads me to here, under a sign and waiting for Skip. I'm going to read Watchmen for a bit, and I'll update a little while later.
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