"It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare, it is because we do not dare that they are difficult." Seneca
Why I left the Bay (and lots of nonsense in parentheses): Mountain View, CA. - Monday, September 26, 2011 - 10:34 am EXACTLY:
(Note to reader. There is a strong possibility that it was not 10:34, though I'm pretty sure the year was 2011...Now, on with the completely factual account of that morning.)
I awoke with an unusual anxiety worming around in my gut. It was a feeling I thought I had rid myself of when I left Colorado (or as a pirate would say "Me home town" though there are very few pirates in Colorado). It was the distinct desire to GTFO (This means Get The Fuck Out, for those of you who aren't in the know, or Get The Fudge Out, for you wholesome types, and Get The Funk Out for those of you who get down on the dance floor). This was surprising, to say the least, as I had no inclinations during the previous week or even the previous night that I might want to get up and go. Honestly, it kinda scared me, as these sorts of impulses tended to dig at me until they were satiated. I had just moved into a new apartment, my boot camp classes at Coupons.com were ramping up, and everything was great at Google. So why this sudden urge to vacate the premises? I decided I would meditate on it and think on it (and nap on it) until I had a clear picture in my mind as to what I really wanted. I stayed in my room until hunger finally drove me out at 2:30 (EXACTLY). Despite all of my deliberations, and concerns and counter-arguments, the feeling remained. Even though everything was going swimmingly, there were some things that needed to change for me, as a writer, as an individual and as a magician who performs at children's birthday parties (a little known part of my dark and mysterious past). The underlying issue was that I didn't feel like I would be motivated to make these changes while living in the lap of Google luxury. The other thing that had become apparent to me during the last few contemplative hours, was that I missed it. The thought of giving or throwing away most of the things I own, and getting back on the road with Batman (My cross-eyed pitbull who was sent from the future by Jesus, to protect me on my holy mission against the arch-demon Justin Bieber) was really exciting. There was no more denying it. It was time for me to go.
The Ghost of Hitch Hikers Past: As I began to prepare for the first leg of my trip back to Colorado, I was visited by a ghastly spectre from days long gone. It was the spirit of... (Alex aims the flashlight up under his chin and speaks in an ominous voice) GREG THE DRIFTER! (No, not drifting like in Fast and Furious 2, Tokyo Drift, though that would be cool) For those of you who haven't heard the story of my first day out as a hitch hiker, Greg was a sixty-some year old man who had been hitchin' around the country for the past eight years after getting out of jail for drug trafficking. He was missing half his teeth and would have mysterious, and seemingly in-depth, conversations with God. So while I was plotting my course out of California, I heard his voice, all wavy and spooky like, say to me "Dear Ol' Chap, you mustn't traverse down the road they call One O' One" (Highway 101, for you who don't speak ghostly hobo nonsense) "All who wander that path are doomed I say, and cursed and hogswaddled!" (For some reason Greg now spoke in an British accent) All silliness aside, this was an actual piece of advice Greg had given me on my first day out. And the way he presented it, made it seem like a rule that must never be broken. Now I am not a superstitious person, but I wasn't about to go against the advice of someone who conversed regularly with the creator of the universe.
God, pictured here:
Not to be confused with Kratos, the God of War, pictured here:
Also not to be confused with Godzilla, pictured here:
(It would have been far cooler if Greg had mental conversations with Godzilla)
And finally, not to be confused with Morgan Freeman, who is not pictured here:
(I repeat, this is not Morgan Freeman. This is the artist formally known as Val Kilmer)
Heeding Greg's infinite wisdom and not taking 101 meant I was going to need to take shorter rides to several connecting highways, and weave my way south east across California after a short jaunt north. I would leave from Milpitas, going up 680 to 580 until it connected with Highway 5. Oh the lengths I go to follow the rambling advice of a possibly insane homeless man.
Next time on Wondergasm!...
Will Alex and Batman catch a ride in Milpitas? Are they still in California, starving to death on the side of the road? Does Batman know that Alex secretly has a crush on him? Does Alex know that Batman can smell laughter from three miles away? All this and more on the next installment of Wondergasm!
P.S. You're hot.