Nomadic Zen – A Vagabond’s Guide To Happiness

This was supposed to get posted like 10 days ago but somehow didn’t. So I’ll post it now and work hard this week to get up to date.

Yesterday at the time I swore was the worst day of my life. Now that it’s over, I can’t seem to recall how horrible it was.

I got up pretty early yesterday in an attempt to get to Dallas by nightfall. FAILED!

There’s a few different philosophies when it comes to flying a sign. A general direction, something witty, your final destination, and the next city over in the direction you want. After flying “north” until my water ran out, I hit the gas station for a refill, and some more cardboard. I decided a different tactic was in order, so I wrote “Austin” and started heading back to my shaded onramp. While running across the street someone abrupty pulled over.

John Paul is an Austin resident who frequents San Marcos alot. He told me it was too hot to be out walking anywhere. That was pretty much the jist of everything he said to me. He was a quiet man who appeared in his late 40′s. I did the usual conversation stuff to see if he’d talk, and he gave pretty short answers and didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to me. Fair enough, I’m antisocial anyways.

He dropped me off at “a good spot.” An important rule of hitching is to know that people who don’t hitch have no idea what a good spot is. He dropped me off past an onramp which meant I had to hike to the next one. That was my only ride yesterday and the last ride I’ve gotten. So for the past 24 hours or so I’ve been walking, napping, and failing at catching another ride.

I’ve probably walked about 15 miles in the past 24 hours. My life is heavy. I know why turtles are slow and why they walk on all 4.

At one point I was sitting on my bag in the shade resting up when I hear from behind a female voice yelling “hey!” I turn around and see her waving something in the air. She thought she was doing a good deed when she set a $10 bill in the grass before hiding back in her car. She rolled the window down for me to thank her but really I felt kind of insulted. Oh well. Bum or not, anyone can use $10.

I’m pretty sure Austin was built to thwart hitchhikers. Every onramp on I-35 was pretty much setup for failure. They were all on hills, around blind turns, or so far from a traffic signal that by the time anyone saw me they were doing 55mph and I just looked like a blur of bum.

At one point I got yelled at by a panhandler for using his corner. I’m starting to learn that the homeless are very territorial and not much of talkers.

Alright. I never finished this post while it was fresh in my head and I’ve already lived another day….errr…series of hours. I don’t even know my own name right now.

But I digress.

It’s summary time. I made a crucial mistake that I don’t think I could possibly make again. I won’t ruin the surprise and I’ll just go ahead with the story. I spent my entire day yesterday on the I-35 Northbound service road. I think I’m still on it. However right now I’m probably 20 miles further. Maybe? I dunno. I’m 30-something hours further I know that. I’ve learned alot on the I-35 service road. I made friends, enemies, ate, slept, and cried. Not in that order though. And now I’m sipping a mojito on that service road. Not on the servive road itself. That would be dangerous and silly.

I pushed myself to my limits and thought I was going to break. I kept going and eventually broke down on that service drive with a sign in my hand that I mustered everything in my soul to capture my desperation. It read “being stranded sux” and everytime someone laughed at it I could feel the tears run down my face. That sign may as well had been written in my own blood that I procuded from my heart itself it took so much of me.

Before that I had been walking for more hours than I can count. My “sleep” the night before consisted of exhaustion induced hallucinations with the occasional ant bite to keep me from having a real dream. This occured behind a wall in front of a chinese buffet that I knew wouldn’t be open for many hours after I awoke.

At one point during the night I had a conversation going in my head between 4 different people that could have been a dream, but I can’t be positive.

Then there was just the voice of “myself.” Then there was no voice. There was no self. There just was without words. Then an ant bit me and I either snapped out of it or woke up. What’s the difference, really?

I stood in the sun for 5 hours trying everything I could to convince someone how badly I needed a ride. For the last whatever I could manage I danced, jumped, waved, gyrated, and whatever I could until I felt my body was going to give. My water was so hot that it was nearly undrinkable. I dragged my shell in to the gas station I was near and bought a gatorade. The clerk saw my watter bottled and asked me if I wanted some ice. I want a bullet at this point. And a nap.

I looked over and saw the box of cheesy Buddha statues he was selling for 2.99 in the impulse section. I rubbed the Buddha’s belly, tried to smile at the clerk, and said “for good luck.”

The Buddha meditated under the bodhi tree for 7 days before attaining a level of understanding we call enlightenment. I passed out under a tree for 7 minutes before an ant bit me and woke up feeling like I picked the bullet over the nap. The shade didn’t do anything. My clothes were covered in sweat. Almost like the worst hangover you can experience multiplied by a number so large it can only be signified by the prince symbol.

I have never felt so defeated in my life. I didn’t seriously want to kill myself, but I sure as hell was ready to call it quits and head home on the first flight out. Maybe that cushy rent-a-cop job wasn’t so bad afterall. The thought that just a week before I was riding one of the highest highs of my life and here I was below rock-bottom made me lose it. I cried my little heart out. I firmly believe all of our problems come from the future and past. I firmly believe in zen. I kept bringing myself back only to have that little voice tell me I failed.

Well I would have failed if I just sat there and did nothing. So dragged my ass into a feild that I saw a big piece of paper to write on. Throughout the day I wrote everything that could be written on a sign to gain someone’s attention. All I could think was how shitty this day was.

“being stranded sux”

And so it went.

I know why homeless have such serious issues with drugs and alcohol. After the little time I’ve spent with the world turning its back to me, I’m ready to go shoot up some heroin too. And the whole time I knew I could go back pretty damn easily. At one point I realized I was close enough to a grocery store, had all the water the state of Texas could offer coming out of that gas station, had a bar and retaurant within walking distance, enough money in my pocket for a cab to the airport, and enough money in my account to catch the earliest first class ride out of this hell. I wasn’t going to die. Life would go on no matter how bad it got.

So I pushed onward. Determined to get to Dallas within days. But it felt god awful to continue.

Now here I am several days later. This post didn’t get posted the day after it happened. Once it again it’s summary time in order to catch up to right now.

After hours in the sun and nearing defeat, out of no where came an angel if you will. His name was Taco. Well. It still is. Taco came out of nowhere. After several hours of standing around this corner, I started to understand the politics of the corner and who belonged and whatnot. As soon as Taco showed up, he hailed me and I tried to ignore him. I had a misconception that Taco and his crew soon crushed. He came over to my turf and introduced himself. Around 50 years old, and looking like he’s a pretty seasoned homebum, he walked over covered in faded tattoos from years in the sun. He shook my hand and invited me over in the shade under the bridge. After a few minutes of conversation his offer for food, shade, and water sounded better than standing in the sun for a minute longer. After telling me in his southern twang, “you ain’t gettin’ a ride anytime soon anyway,” I realized my day couldn’t get any worse than where it was head.

In the end I met Taco, Randy, and Hank. Hank was old and scraggly. He served 6 years in the army before becoming a tramp. He had a gnarly beard all shades of black, grey, and brown. He told me he has seen every country in Europe except for Greece because, in his words, “i don’t like greek people anyway, so why go visit them?” He told me equally interesting stories about picking up the hottest chicks I could imagine and doing very dirty things to them. Both were equally entertaining and whether true or not, I enjoyed them immensely.

Randy walked around with a usb necklace that I thought was just for show. He spoke slowly, yet very eloquently and did well to articulate himself. I didn’t get his story because he came into the picture later and I didn’t stay much longer. I later found out that he had documents, writings, websites, and “5 years worth of work” dangling around his neck like a beautiful bead.

In Austin they have a weekly publishing called “busted in Austin” that Taco and the boys buy for a dollar and laugh at the other home bums they know. I asked how much it costs and Taco said he has never paid for it. Hank busted on him saying Taco is going to be in the next issue and we’re all going to be laughing at him. Chuckles were had by all and we feasted on some food that someone had just dropped off. Pasta salad, pb, bread, lunch meat, watermelon, lemonade, water, toiletries. I had a pb sandwich when I first got there. I didn’t want to take from people who had nothing, but they were more generous than those with so much. Hank told me about a truck stop not far up the road. After a bit of companionship and rest, I was motivated to get moving. I would have a much better chance of catching a ride from a truck stop than within the city. The reason for that is because most people in a city are staying within the city. People who stop a truckstops are usually in it for the long haul. They’re outside of the city and they not only attract insterstate truckers, but people looking for a break on their long car rides to god knows where.

They insisted that before I left I make a couple sandwiches and fill my bottle becasue as hank put it, “the road is hard out there.” I knew very well what he had meant, but life got alot easier because after days of nobody noticing I exist, those who also don’t exist took me in and gave me the first smiles I had seen in days. I thanked them before I left and was invited back to their bridge anytime I’m in the area. I don’t think they understood how greatful I was.

I decided to indulge myself and get a hotel for the night. There’s no need to kill myself. After a hot bath and sleeping in a bed for the first time since i left, I felt energized and ready to go.

The next day went beautifully. I’ll summarize those rides. Young Blake in convertable Audi with florida plates. He has hitchhiked before and was on his way to Orlando or else he would have driven me to Dallas right then and there. He wanted to attend nationals but will be in Moscow for 19 days visiting a girl he met in his travels. Next was Dustin who picked me up just as I was walking the service drive. No sign, no thumb, no show of intent that I needed a ride. He told me to hop in back and I was shocked to see 3 month old Michael in his car seat. Dustin, the nurses aide from the area told his wife Maria to sit in back instead and invited me up front. He referred to her only as “baby” while talking her to about wanting macaroni and leaving the meat outside to defrost. Only referring to her by name when introducing us. They drove me a few miles up the road to a station that serves semis. A semi is a great resource for hitching and usually the spots they fuel at are pretty remote and make you seem more like a traveler than a bum.

I decided to start city hopping and a had spent some time at breakfast studying the map of the area. Round Rock, Georgetown, Temple, Another that I forget at the time, DFW. A 70ish year old Texan in a pickup was driving me to temple at this point. He told me of his own adventure hitching when he was 17 and provided lots of advice on where to visit in New Mexico. He drove me the 40 mile ride and dropped me off in a fantastic spot on the southside of the city. He suggested a truckstop that was on the other side of Waco, but I knew there was one long before that. Paula took me there. She is a 40 year old house cleaner who took me the 15 miles to Love’s truckstop. She gave me a bag of chips and wished me well.

Finally a nice sized real truckstop. Semis come through every minute and always willing to go to some far off local. Ross picked me up on his way to Fort Worth. He provided me a 200 mile ride, offered me dinner, gave me a place to crash, dropped me off where I wanted to be, and then gave me a phone number in case I was heading west and needed a ride from him in the future.

Now I’m in Arlington Texas with some people I’ve never met before. OhhhHhHhHHh SCARY!

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