1 May 2004

Am I doing alright?

Two nights ago, after rocking out with Vince, I got a ride to the DC
Metro stop with our lead guitarist. The last downtown train
apparently leaves college park a little after 11:30pm. Unfortunately
for our hero, it was already after midnight. And my ride was long
gone by the time we had come to this point of realization in the
story.

So, I resolved to get back to Vince's and just ride the Metro downtown the
following day. Vince sounded tired on the phone, so I walked. It
was only 2 miles, and I only had my laptop, my guitar and my juggling
gear - none of which are terribly heavy.

I figured I'd try to cut through some of the park trails. It was a
nice night - the moon was out and the weather easily admitted wearing
no more than a t-shirt. But, I don't know the area that well, and I
spent about half an hour trying to negotiate the maze of fences
that surround the College Park airport.

I was tired. My bags were getting heavy. And a police cruiser
leaving the hangar area of the airport flashed it's lights at me.
They were concerned. "Are you doing alright?" one officer asked.

And I proceeded to explain that I was making my way to Metzerott Road,
which elicited a look. Clearly no one in their right mind would be
walking over two miles at this time of night. Or any time really.
Unless, of course, they were excercising. But then they would be
wearing fancy synthetic short pants and expensive shoes. And they
certainly wouldn't have a guitar. I think the fact that I had a
guitar made them decide that I could take care of myself anyway,
despite the fact that I was obviously well removed from sanity. So
they just reinforced the idea that there was no way I was going to get
through the airport, and that I'd better go back out to the main
roads.

In all fairness, they probably saved me 15 minutes of further
investigation on my own.

Happily, I then found the paths I was looking for, just a little
further down the road. By this point, I was dying from exhaustion and
I just wanted to lie down in the grass and sleep there. That should
be a perfectly reasonable thing to do. It would have been very
comfortable - the night was beautiful, and I had stuff I could lay
on. But I was too close to civiliation. And civilization is not OK
with you sleeping outside.

I pressed on.

In the middle of the college park campus, in an area dominated by the
new Comcast center, I ran out of juice. I needed to sit down and
have a rest. An SUV pulled by and asked if I was doing alright. I
assured them that I was - I was simply walking home and was tired and
had to rest. There was some mumbling in the car and they sped off.
I don't think they were interested in giving me a ride at any point.
I really don't know what they were after. But maybe I was getting
too cynical by this point in the evening.

Having stored up enough energy to complete my trip, I journeyed up
Metzerott Road. I thought I might cut straight across to Vince's
place, instead of walking the roundabout way via the roads. Since I
was walking and all. But the path was again blocked. All the little patches
of suburbia were carefully guarded by connected lengths of chain-link
fence. Or hurricane fence, as they call it in Australia.

This entry has taken me days to write. Unlike my descriptions of
tropical paradise and rich cultural experiences. In some ways, it
has affected me far more profoundly than these other things. I know
the kind of life I want. And America doesn't want me to have it.

We'll see who is the stronger.