I woke up hung over at 9:00 and wondered why I hadn’t heard from Trinity all night. I grabbed for my phone, but it wasn’t on my night stand. It wasn’t anywhere. I frantically tore the bus apart desperately looking for it. I found a friend on-line who called it, but it didn’t ring. It went straight to voice mail. Maybe I had left it in the back seat of the truck I got a ride home in, or lost it at the bon fire. “I’ll call Dan and Brady”, I thought…wait, I don’t have my phone. I’ll call from somewhere else…”wait, I don’t even have their numbers, they’re in the phone”. I wasn’t sure where either of them lived. I looked up their phone numbers in a local phone book and went in search of a pay phone. I called from the grocery store. Brady, could not connect…Dan’s number was “ do do de, no longer in service”. I knew the general direction of Dan’s house and was able to find it. He was home and called Brady. The phone was not in the truck. Dan drove me to where the bon fire had been. My beer bottle was still sitting next to the lawn chair I had hazily occupied just hours ago. It still had 2 inches of beer in it. It was like looking back in time. I sat in the chair to reenact the angel of where it might have fallen out of my pocket. The grass was long. I searched through it, but no phone. Satisfied that I was able to talk to both of these guys and look, I decided it was just lost. I was going to have to go to Mankato and buy a new phone immediately. I was lost without it.
I stopped back at the bus to regroup and noticed an email from Trinity. She told me that I was talking to her on the phone, in the bus at 4:00am, so it must be there. Excited, relieved and confidant that it was there I started a new search. Looking everywhere; in the fridge, bathroom medicine cabinets, under the bus. I moved a couch cushion and in the crack I saw it. I grabbed it and started kissing it franticly over and over, probably one to two hundred times. Just then I noticed a fellow camper watching me from outside my open screen door. Kind of embarrassing, but I didn’t care, I was happy.
I went to my mom and dad’s. We went to visit my grandpa in Mankato. This was my “last goodbye” with him and perhaps, realistically forever. Being a new pro at “last goodbyes” I handled it expertly. I’ve learned that you can’t think that you’ll never see someone again. It’s too painful, difficult and not emotionally healthy. I told him, “even though I joke a lot about not making it back, I WILL be back. I’m hoping to send him postcards, so he too can come on my journey.
Mom and dad brought me out for one last meal and then we went back to their house. I could sense the weight of the moment as they were aware that when I left this time it would be the last time we’d see each other for who knew how long. “There’s no point in dragging this out”, I thought. It was time to go. Our goodbye was short and sweet and I headed back to the bus.
I had been living illegal again since yesterday. I had only paid for the campsite through the night of July third. I went from looking over my shoulder for four days, to belonging for three, back to mild paranoia. It was what I was used to. I adjusted my now sagging paper permit so the “Dates” could not be read through the windshield.
I found Courtney, my friend from the Judas Priest show on facebook. I was glad. Now I could share my pictures and video with her. We didn’t talk much about our lives at the show. It was a surprise to find out that she lived exclusively in national parks for five years. What a great friend to have.
My TV reception had been bad ever since I moved the bus to dump and fill the holding tanks. I was in the same location, but about two feet forward. I started ‘er up, rolled back two feet and the TV screen was perfect.
I stopped back at the bus to regroup and noticed an email from Trinity. She told me that I was talking to her on the phone, in the bus at 4:00am, so it must be there. Excited, relieved and confidant that it was there I started a new search. Looking everywhere; in the fridge, bathroom medicine cabinets, under the bus. I moved a couch cushion and in the crack I saw it. I grabbed it and started kissing it franticly over and over, probably one to two hundred times. Just then I noticed a fellow camper watching me from outside my open screen door. Kind of embarrassing, but I didn’t care, I was happy.
I went to my mom and dad’s. We went to visit my grandpa in Mankato. This was my “last goodbye” with him and perhaps, realistically forever. Being a new pro at “last goodbyes” I handled it expertly. I’ve learned that you can’t think that you’ll never see someone again. It’s too painful, difficult and not emotionally healthy. I told him, “even though I joke a lot about not making it back, I WILL be back. I’m hoping to send him postcards, so he too can come on my journey.
Mom and dad brought me out for one last meal and then we went back to their house. I could sense the weight of the moment as they were aware that when I left this time it would be the last time we’d see each other for who knew how long. “There’s no point in dragging this out”, I thought. It was time to go. Our goodbye was short and sweet and I headed back to the bus.
I had been living illegal again since yesterday. I had only paid for the campsite through the night of July third. I went from looking over my shoulder for four days, to belonging for three, back to mild paranoia. It was what I was used to. I adjusted my now sagging paper permit so the “Dates” could not be read through the windshield.
I found Courtney, my friend from the Judas Priest show on facebook. I was glad. Now I could share my pictures and video with her. We didn’t talk much about our lives at the show. It was a surprise to find out that she lived exclusively in national parks for five years. What a great friend to have.
My TV reception had been bad ever since I moved the bus to dump and fill the holding tanks. I was in the same location, but about two feet forward. I started ‘er up, rolled back two feet and the TV screen was perfect.
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