"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go."
- Peter, Paul, and Mary - "Leaving On a Jet Plane"
Sunday, September 14th, 2008. It was moving day. Packed into small and flexible groups were the essential items that I'd be needing for both the road trip as well as our ending destination in North Hollywood. These tiny subsections of my livelihood contained just enough to get me by: clothing, kitchen supplies, and your average odor-defying bathroom products. My lady friend (or "girlfriend," in case she reads this and gets upset that I called her my lady friend), Emily, did not share my sense of petite packing. I have confidence that if I had let her bring her actual bedroom closet, she would have.
But let's move on, for fear of digressing.
The drive from the Midwest to the West Coast qualifies as my first "real" road trip. For the first time, I crossed more than one state boundary in a single sitting. And for the most part, it was enjoyable. Four of us braved the everlasting stretches of roads: accompanying me and my better third was Emily's father (who supplied his truck to tow our spiffy Nissan Sentra packed to the brim with "essentials") and sister--a pair of kind souls if ever I'd met any. There were plenty of sights to be seen, plenty of songs to be heard, and the frequent stops for gas gave us opportunities to interact with the locals.
It was also 28 hours in a car.
In my head, I envisioned the trip going something like this: "Look, there goes the Iowa border! Look it's the Rocky Mountains! Hey, it's Las Vegas! What's that? We're in California already?"
(Now Entering: Warp Speed)
In reality, it was closer to this: "Why in the hell does it take so long to pass through Utah?"
(Not Pictured: Fun in Utah)
But when we finally saw the official road sign promising us that we had entered the boundaries of California, I can safely say that the excitement was palpable...and probably just a little sticky. We had arrived to our destination in four separate pieces...as four separate persons are inclined to do.
Having never seen our apartment in person before, I was prepared to be overwhelmed. I was also prepared to be underwhelmed (just in case). I wasn't prepared to be just whelmed, which is exactly what I was. I didn't have strong feelings either way about our new living set-up. The place was a 1-Bedroom but would have 3 people (including our mutual friend, Molly) living within its walls, which makes for a very cramped Three's Company scenario. It looked beautiful, clean, and generally welcoming, but its diminutive stature simply didn't lend itself to being a habitual resting place for large parties of people--or even just a few, large party people. Let me say it another way: if I lived in the apartment alone, I'd be singing to the ceilings that I'd "moved on up." Instead, I realized how individual cashews must feel in those small little cans.
On the other hand, my previous apartment was a studio and it featured what my girlfriend and I lovingly referred to as a "bedcouch." So, it was still a step in the right direction. Plus, I'd be living with a good friend and a girlfriend. And I'd be fulfilling my dream to start living my days without being steeped in regret over the things that I hadn't done. And that's worth a long drive in a cramped car and a year in a cramped apartment.
Because sometimes in life, you have to deal with cramps to achieve your dreams. And that's a phrase worthy of its own bumper sticker if ever I've heard one.
The Three Stages of Travel (In Song):
The Happy Start. Stone Temple Pilots - "Interstate Love Song"
The Long, Long Middle. Modest Mouse - "Out of Gas"
The Big Arrival. Phantom Planet - "California"
Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake
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