As usual, I have no idea where to begin. Every car I get into can be a long and detailed story all by itself so I'll have to gloss over some of the details. When I left off last time I was kickin it with my parents in Miami. From there I took a bus to Crystal River up in central Florida to see my Aunt, Uncle, and three cousins. After a night of beer, Jeff Dunham, and tickling my youngest cousin to sleep, I was driven to I-75 by my Aunt in the morning.
Within an hour of waiting along I-75, a trucker transporting vehicles pulled over. He hopped out of the cab, handed me a key to a Lexus SUV and told me to go ahead and listen to the radio, turn the A/C on, just don't put it in gear. John, the trucker, looked legit, so I climbed the truck and hopped in! After having a giggling fit for a good half hour (a video of which I posted to Facebook), I calmed down a bit and just enjoyed the ride. Most of the drivers that passed either looked dumbfounded that this kid was chilling in a Lexus in the back of a truck or gave me a big smile and thumbs up. One woman tried to signal to me that hitchhiking was suicide, and to be honest if I had gotten in HER vehicle it probably would have been. John, however, was an incredibly nice man who helped me out tremendously and in no way made any effort to kill me.
About 100 miles up I-75 I was dropped off at the intersection with I-10, a highway that goes all the way to California and the road I would take almost all the way to my destination in Huntsville, Texas. In under an hour another trucker transporting vehicles stopped for me (this time I sat up front in the cab). Geno was by far the kindest driver I've had to date. The great-grandson of a slave from Mississippi, Geno had a soft and take-it-as-it-comes way about him. He was transporting cars for Hertz to New Orleans and would pass right through my stop for the day at Pensacola, Florida. He was easy to talk to, always had a big smile, and shared fascinating stories about his family's upbringing.
In Pensacola I walked over to the nearest Waffle House and called Gerald, my CouchSurfing host I contacted the night before. An hour later I was taking a shower and getting ready for Harry Potter trivia night at the local bar in town! All told, my Crystal River to Pensacola trip was incredibly smooth and exciting. Unfortunately, this gave me higher expectations for the next day, when I would try to make it all the way to Huntsville, TX.
Gerald dropped me off where he picked me up along I-10. For three hours I waited along the entrance ramp watching driver after driver give me dirty looks as they passed. I'm not sure why they gave me dirty looks, as I was experiencing a huge boost in spirits from my luck the night before and therefore looked incredibly happy standing on the side of the road. Eventually a man from Alabama took me 15 miles down the road (which I happily took just to get out of that spot!). About 30 minutes after being dropped off I got a ride in the back of a pickup truck for another 30-odd miles! That was a lot of fun :)
I was left at a busy truck-stop, however I still needed to wait over two and a half hours before getting a ride (and not a far one at that). He was a hairstylist from Mobile, Alabama, and within five minutes of being in the car he pulled out a chillum and was offering me a hit. I took one (just one), and watched the sun set in beautiful Bama. He dropped me off about 15 miles from the Mississippi border, where I ran into another traveller.
I didn't get his name, but he claimed to be stranded on-route to Pensacola (where I started out from). I gave him a couple bucks for food, then left to walk over to the entrance ramp on I-10. I was in the ideal spot to catch a ride: slow entrance ramp with a lot of traffic, truck stop nearby, but I just wasn't having the same luck I had yesterday. I waited four hours for a ride, listening to Harry Potter on audiobook while I waited. Eventually I got taken 15 miles down the road into Mississippi by Mr. "smell like gay."
He claimed to be a Mason, a secret society that does various charitable acts and supposedly influenced the way our country was founded. I was deeply skeptical, but he showed me the ring and his tone of voice told me that at least HE believed what he was saying. Before I got out he told me about an excellent church I could attend if I was ever in Mississippi again (not likely) and wished me luck.
I needed luck at this point. In the 12 hours of hitching I only made it about 85 miles from Pensacola (versus the 370 I made the day before). I was tired, and for the first time I felt frustrated with hitching. Even when I waited seven hours trying to catch a ride to St. Louis, hitching was new and exciting and I didn't mind that much. Now I definitely felt a sense of "just fucking get me there already." I started thinking about where I could sleep for the night while waiting on the entrance ramp when all the sudden the miracle ride arrived!
I could see a Mexican man behind the wheel, a white woman in the passenger seat, and two teenage girls in the back. They were making a midnight ride all the way to, as luck would have it, Houston, Texas, a city just an hour south of Huntsville! The woman in the front explained where they were going, told me that her daughters were a little nervous about picking up a hitchhiker, but that they wouldn't mind helping me out. I hoped in, unable to believe my luck. In the car I found out that the driver was not, as I originally assumed, the father of the girls in the back, but rather a "complicated" friend of the woman. I didn't want to inquire what that meant exactly, but I found out anyway shortly after. He was an illegal immigrant. He had no papers and no drivers license, yet here he was driving this single mother and her daughters from Atlanta to Houston.
The woman was a nurse (a nice one at that), who was in a relationship with the man. Francisco, the driver, spoke little English, but had an incredible story. He came to the United States three years ago through the desert in Arizona, walking past the bodies of those before him who died from starvation or dehydration. He spoke in Spanish and he told me that he knew he could've been just like those who died in the dessert.
Well, I know this a bad point to interrupt the story, but my friend just got home from class so I'm going to get off the computer now. I'll post the rest soon!
From Huntsville, Texas, I'm signin out!
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And Aida's off to class so I'm back
Anyway, back to Francisco. He was a decent driver, but maybe a little reckless. If I were him, I wouldn't have driven a single mile over the speed limit, but he drove 5-10 miles over. I offered to take the wheel, but everyone in the car assured me that he'd be ok. I was a little nervous, but he did work as a truck driver at one point (god knows how) and I made sure to buy him a coffee after it got late.
When I jumped in the car the woman (Lisa) took the back seat with her daughters and gave me the front. At midnight I learned that Lisa just had a birthday. I bought her Hostess' Cup Cakes at the next gas stop, in light of not having access to real cake. This really cheered her up. We drove all through Mississippi, Louisiana -- I got to see the Super Dome for the first time! -- and all the way into Texas!
I asked to be dropped off before Huston (I don't remember the name of the town), and started walking looking for a place to sleep. Usually I can find a secluded place near the highway to set up my hammock or pull out my sleeping bag, but at this spot there were only houses. It was past four in the morning and I didn't want to be caught trespassing on someones property, especially in Texas. I walked for at least a mile looking for a place but there were only more houses. I turned around and headed back to the truck stop near the exit. Around five in the morning I sat down on a bench, closed my eyes, and soon I was asleep.
I woke up to a man speaking "at" me. He told me he likes to come down and talk to the hobos (he looked like one himself) and immediately went into his life story, which, frankly, I didn't care to hear first thing in the morning. He was a nice enough guy, and after I made sense of what was happening around me we talked about my travels a bit. He gave me some advice on catching rides at bus stops, which I later not use.
It was September 11, and I watched the memorial service on CNN while eating a hardy Denny's Breakfast. I was tired, but I got enough sleep in the car and on the bench to get me through the day. Turns out Texas is a BRILLIANT state for catching rides, and I'd make it to Huntsville in no time.
After only two rides, a lunch break with one of my drivers at "Simply Country" (I ordered "the lunch"), I was in Livingston, Texas, only 30 miles from Huntsville. I called Aida, my friend from Huntsville, who said she could pick me up there. Tommy, my driver, and I stopped at an American Legion post to have a couple beers while we waited, as he was a member of the Son's of the American Legion. I was tired, but the excitement of making it to my destination trumped my exhaustion.
I'll be resting here in Huntsville for a few days, doing a LOT of relaxing. I'll admit that my trip to Texas burnt me out a little bit, making me feel like I'll need to add something in my daily regiment to keep my mind limber on my trek to San Francisco.
Again, there's too many details that I simply had to exclude in order to not make this post as long as my senior thesis, so I'm sorry if it all sounds a little glossed over! This blog has gotten over 350 views since I started, so thank you guys so much for reading! I do feel some self-induced pressure to add some literary flair to my writing, but I don't have any of that shit so y'all are just going to get it raw.
I'll sign out by saying this trip has really been changing my perspective on life. Hitching is an excellent way to escape your comfort zone and talk to people you'd normally never interact with in your entire life. I've had challenges, some expected and some unexpected (like fucking repellant-resistant Bama-ants), but I've also experienced unimaginable hospitality and kindness from total strangers. My listening and people skills have reached a new high and without a doubt I'm learning to appreciate the little comforts in life. I acknowledge that there's risk in what I'm doing, but to all the nay-sayers of hitchhiking I feel compelled to say this: my faith in humanity has only gotten stronger. People are generally good, and Michelle Obama has firm arms :)
Signing out!
Aida took this in Livingston.
Quick update: Here are the links to the videos I posted on Facebook.
In a Lexus in the back of a truck: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151013835302331
In a pickup truck in Bama: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151015245957331
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