Creative Traveling 101

A black '94 Volvo pulls up at the BP on Court Street. I lower my head and peak in at the long haired driver. He puts the car in park and waves for me to come over. I take one last deep breath. "Hi. Can I put my bag in the back?" I place the backpack that got me through Southeast Asia snugly in the trunk and I slide into the wide, black leather front seat.

No, I haven't turned to prostitution since my last blog entry. I'm on my way to a friend's bachelorette party. I've been in the United States for about four weeks. I'm without car, without job and I have a full schedule of social obligations in various parts of good ole 'Merica. Hence, my participation in organized hitchhiking.

"Yeah, I'm getting a ride to Cincinnati from some dude I found on the Ohio University ride board." Although this is not altogether uncommon my friends get exasperated, worried and downright confused. I realize it seems like a dodgy road trip and getting a ride to Cincinnati, staying the night, catching another ride to Louisville, then going to Nashville (and reverse) might not be ideal. But I don't have many transportation options. If only the USA had an expansive (and cheap) train network. Sigh.

My dad vetoed me buying a motorcycle, my dad vetoed me buying a moped and, though slightly unrelated, my dad vetoed me driving a taxi for some money. My mom nixed hitchhiking, siting some of her own experiences (one involving a man exposing his family jewels to her) with a serious look on her face. So my options were; rent a car, take the greyhound bus or do some creative traveling that includes riding with some harmless strangers.

Once the initial awkwardness is over, I surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly) really enjoy the ride. Besides the driver, there is a freshman majoring in journalism (oh god he makes me feel old) and a guy going through sort of spiritual phase. He asks us if he can burn some sage moments after our journey begins. I, of course, do not have a problem with this. He burns a little but the driver fans his face "Ahh man that stanks." The born again Buddha goes on to preach about the sacredness of trees and nature, which I also have a profound appreciation for but can't help to think "Ohhh dude, that is like, soooo deep." I can tell the driver, who reminds me of a Blues Brother, is thinking the same thing but he manages to keep a straight face.

But, really, who am I to mock? I'm in the back highlighting a tarot card book, searching for my harmonica and wearing a t-shirt that says, "I am not a Russian whore." in Korean.

It feels good to be on the road again. AND it feels good to be blogging...even if I am writing this from my friend's couch in Cincinnati, OH.