I got frisked by a HOT female officer.

I'm talkin sorority girl with authority kind of hot. She did the same motions as the cop from my first day: background check, took away my knife and pepper spray, gave me a good friskin, then finally gave me a ride. I gotta say, the first cop was a better frisker, probably because she was older and more experienced if you know what I mean. Despite having two run-ins with the police I have not had any problems with them. Kirstin (hot cop), even gave me a ride all the way to my destination and told me stories about how she once maced a goose (this only added to her attractiveness in my eyes).

But anyway...

So much shit has gone down since my last post that I really don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll start by saying that seeing Justine, my old college friend, in Iowa City was a lot of fun! She took me out on the town and I done got oh so drunk. I was a little worried about hitching hungover but a two mile walk to the highway after a breakfast burrito cured that right up. Thanks again, Justine!

I'm going to have to leave out a LOT of details in order to make this story not sound like an incoherant mess of words splewing out onto the interwebs, so bare with me. I had good luck in the morning after leaving Iowa City, and after a couple of rides I made it to a Iowa town called Mount Pleasant. That town was not pleasant, nor did I see any mountains. I was dropped in the ideal spot to catch a ride: plenty of traffic (but not too much so that drivers think the guy behind them will pick me up), a long and windy entrance ramp (ensuring that the drivers will get a good look at me), and plenty of light. There was even a Quiznos right next to the highway. Despite these perfect conditions, I had zero luck picking up a ride. I waited a total of seven hours, during which time one vehicle did stop for me. The man was driving a truck and inside his vehicle were three boys and a dog. At first glance this seemed like a safe ride, but after talking to the guy I got a very negative vibe and declined the ride. I don't believe he meant me any kind of harm, but he was getting increasingly frustrated with me that I didn't know the surrounding towns. Regardless, I did not enter the vehicle and was stranded in Mt. Pleasant for the night.

I found a secluded place with some trees and set up my hammock to crash for the night. I pulled out my sleeping bag and slept like a baby.

Next morning I tried again and got a ride in 20 minutes with a born-again coke addict named Curtis. He wasn't a bad guy, just partied a little much in college and started getting in with the wrong people. He had been clean for two years, was married, had kids, and really was kind person. He took me all the way into Missouri. There's been a few moments these last few days where I have been unable to control my smiling (or even laughing loudly in public). Strutting into Iowa City and St. Louis are two examples, but seeing that "Welcome to Missouri" sign was another one.

A few rides later I made it to a town called Hannibal, about 100 miles from my destination. I got dropped off in a shitty spot: right in the middle of town. A hitchhiker I picked up once told me that Wal Mart is usually a good spot to catch a ride due to all the truckers that go in and out (Wal Mart also allows truckers to sleep in the parking lot). I tried my luck on a road that both led to Wal Mart, and was close to the road I needed to be on. After an hour the sun went down. An hour later some guy stopped and yelled, "bad spot buddy! Some guy guy robbed just down there!" "Ok, thanks!" I said back, not entirely registering what he was saying. About five minutes later it hit me that I wasn't on the highway but in the middle of town and should be more careful about robbers. I left the spot and began to walk through town. The highway, which went straight through town, obviously didn't have any entrance ramps, and with the sun down I knew it was going to be damn near impossible to get anyone to stop for me. Of all the towns I could've been stranded in, "Hannibal" didn't sound like the friendliest (although the people really were). I hunkered down in a motel for the night, giving me the chance to shower, process the events of the last two days, and watch Democrats and Republicans yell at each other on TV.

I was a little worried the next day. I was still in the middle of town and had no clue how I was going to get a ride. I enjoyed the complementary breakfast that came with my motel room, checked out, then began to walk. It was 92 degrees, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and I had 35 pounds of shit that I was lugging around on my back. I walked, and I walked, and I walked some more, hoping I'd make it far enough out of town that the highway would turn into a ramp-highway again. I had my thumb out the whole time, but at 60 miles an hour and only seeing the back of my head, the motorists had no way to know that I wasn't some psychopath on some kind of murder pilgrimage. I walked at least five miles, sweating my balls off and bursting blisters on my feet, before an 18-wheeler stopped for me. Stan the truck driver was my savior. Undoubtably the most helpful driver I've hitched with so far, Stan took me all the way into St. Louis! He was headed for Memphis from Des Moines, a route which took him exactly along the two roads I needed to be on. U.S. 61 became I-64, which went straight into St. Louis and intersected the highway that would take me to my friend's suburb (I-270). Stan was a really great person. He helped me not because of all that Christin "do-unto-others" shit (I love that shit), but because it was in his nature. He once picked up a hitchhiker had been on the road for months (during which time the hitcher never grabbed a good shower). The hitcher was tired and wanted to go home, so Stan bought him a bus ticket, setting him back over $60. In his youth Stan hitched across the U.S. as well, although in his time hitchin was sort of a common thing. "You could go to a truck stop and pick up a ride in minutes... not today though." According to Stan, the world "just got too big." "People just don't trust anyone anymore." We talked about hitchin, politics (Stan was a Democrat with some strong views on working for your unemployment check), and stand-up comedy. He dropped me off by I-270, a highway within the city limits that would take me straight to my friend's suburb. He gave me a Smith and Wesson flip knife, which I tried to give him some money for but he wouldn't take it, and just like that he was gone.

It's funny how your spirits can be raised in a second, even after two nights of being stranded. Whenever a car stops, whether they're going in the right direction or not always stirs some excitement and "resets" whatever spirit may have been lost. Admittedly, I was quite discouraged when I left Hannibal. I didn't know how I was going to get a ride, it was taking me far longer than I hoped to make it to St. Louis, and on top of that I would walk for miles with little hope that anyone would stop. Stan reset all that, making me feel like the biggest badass that ever walked this earth. I waited along the entrance ramp of 270 with my new knife in my pocket and the biggest grin I've had on this trip yet. Twenty minutes later the police came and took me to Westport Plaza in Maryland Heights, the location my friend Alex would pick me up from.

What I think is lacking from this whole narrative so far is the change that I'm experiencing in the way I interact with people, the way I feel about humanity, and even just the way that I think. Maybe in another post I'll write about all that, but I don't know if I can put it into words just yet.

My parents told me a couple days ago that they'll be in Miami for a week, so I'm putting my trip on hold to go and see them. My first thought when they said that was "great! I'll hitch down there!". After taking two and half days to travel what would normally be a five-hour drive, I've decided that I'll take them up on their offer to fly me there instead. I'll resume my trip from Florida next Saturday when they've left the country. Next stop, Huntsville, Texas!

Here's some weird shit I've seen on the road. Signing out!

 In Iowa City the nuclear weapons can be found at the cat park.

They say these will replace human road workers one day.

Blueberry lemonade (only at Nodo!). Weird, but delicious.