On a Mission.

I'm back in Florida on a single ride from Jessup, Maryland to Love's at Ormond Beach, Florida and then others into Fort Pierce and finally arriving at Port Saint Lucie today. The best ride was by far a Cuban driver, Marco, who bought me breakfast and told me to call him when I needed a ride to Fort Lauderdale International (and when I wanted to meet his daughter, he he!). The weather's just as I left it, fantastic, and now I'm on a mission to find the mystery driver with all of my belongings. Regardless of whether or not I find him I am leaving for Ponce, Puerto Rico December 12th.

Also I've updated my trip map.

Just thought I'd give you folks a quick update.

Take care,
Matty

Stem to Stern.

Luckily the incident previously mentioned could not have been timed better. I was headed to Fredericksburg, Virginia to meet my folks and then head to Harrisonburg to meet with the family for thanksgiving. So my old man brought me an old backpack and sleeping bag and some changes of clothes. So I am back at it! I am in Jessup, Maryland waiting for the weekend lull to end so I can catch a ride south to Florida and then a flight to Puerto Rico.

Yesterday a took the light rail into Baltimore on a tip from Tony the janitor at TA. I spent the day in the inner harbor. I traveled here before many, many times with my folks when I was a kid. So I knew my way around pretty well. I met the author of a book titled "Lexington Market." She and the guy with her recommended I visit it. He said you can buy seafood for dirt cheap. So I left to walk around some more and I spotted a Coast Guard ship in the Harbour that was open to tour. I approached it and the girl checking admission asked if I had a ticket. I said no but offered her a dollar to see it. She refused my offer so I walked back down the gang plank. Wishing I could get on board the Tanney (this is actually a picture of it in Baltimore Inner Harbor) I waited for a large group and dashed up the plank and to the right and ducked into one of the doors.

It had a distinct odor, very common in old military and aviation equipment. The first sight of the interior was at once over whelming and mysterious. The ceiling was unsurprisingly low and the corridors narrow. There were bundles of zero gauge cable, tiny alarm lights, and pipes everywhere. Everything was labeled and had a purpose which was truly impressive. There was definitely a distinct style to the ship. I spent my first moments aboard the old cutter in one of the seats next to the bridge. I felt as though I was commanding an assault on Baltimore. I was high up, alone, and behind the 5"/38 caliber gun wearing my crazy parka, cold wind blowing, so it was an easy fantasy to have. I headed back down, not ready to depart from my "special discount" tour I went back in side the ship this time down the ladder into the crew quarters. Again very tight but not suffocating like submarines. The bunks where too short for me, and I had a tough time figuring how little stuff I could fit in my assigned locker.

I found the mess hall and it was getting really eerie. It felt like it could be home but it was a ship. I also felt like I was invading someones personal space, like it was sacred ground not be tread on. Although I don't think this feeling was related to the cheap admission. It was more that this was manned by a lot of men whom I believe now are all dead. I kept on walking deeper into her hull. I found the engine room and was completed enthralled with how they had driven two propellers with relatively thin shafts attached to massive engines which now lay silent. I realized at once how loud these would be if they were operational. I tried to go further but the next segment was directly beneath the admissions girl. So I back tracked.

I noticed that Engineering was a small office located directly adjacent to the two engines. I pitied the souls confined to that small hot loud space. I saw a gold E////O painted which according to a placard was not an award but a fifth consecutive for efficiency and operational readiness. Perhaps why I was standing aboard the sole survivor of pearl harbor. I kept back and re-entered the mess hall and this time I found the boiler room. Perhaps the most intense and eerie room of the whole vessel. A small tube running vertically with Coca-cola/Pepsi painted was according to a sign the "only exit from the boiler room during an emergency or fire." I saw the uniforms of the crew and they all seemed like tiny men to me.

I visited the armory to the 5"/38 gun. There were dozens of shells neatly arranged around a slot. The room was appropriately lit with crimson lights and was adjacent to a bathroom. I saw the barber shop and also the armory for the ship with a few .50 caliber armaments and shell cans. I went topside once more before departing. I spotted the crows nest and wished I could get to the stern but the ticket girl would surely spot me. I gave the Taney one last look and departed down the gang plank the same way I entered behind a bunch of Scandinavians.

Once again on leave from the Taney I headed for the fabled Lexington Market. It was a good hike back to downtown. Upon arriving my senses were again overwhelmed. I started stumbling around inside, kind of in awe of the variation from vendor to vendor. I found a Hawaiian place and got some shrimp for $2. I liked them so much I went back and got the shrimp dinner for $4. It included mashed yams and sweet beef noodles in addition to the tasty breaded shrimp. I made my way back to catch the light rail back south just in time to make it back and enjoy my meal. I don't know how "Hawaiian" the food was but it was delicious. It was a damn fine day.

Separation of Tent and Stake.

This story is a bit coarse so take warning.

I had fully realized after being dropped of at the Greyhound station that I was shit out of luck. I was freezing, and I met a young girl in the truck stop who lent me a bright orange poncho and wrapped me in a sheet. She was a sweetheart but goodness was she lost. The poncho/wet-sheet combo was not working so I bought a $13 blanket that was hardly worth more then $3. I was really missing my hoodie and all my other things at this point but there was nothing I could do. All of my possessions were no longer mine to use, they were miles and miles away. I kept recounting the events of the day in my head and couldn't believe them. Not at all. I had met him at a gas station in Port St. Lucie. I had evaluated my options, an empty truck, and old woman, and him. So I walked up to him and tapped on his window. "Please don't be asking for fucking money." No I don't panhandle I said. He asked to see if I was carrying any weapons and I show him that I wasn't so I put my stuff in his Chevy and we drove North for Ft. Pierce.

He said it seemed strange that I would just pack up and leave. I kept trying to explain to him the circumstances surrounding my leave but it didn't sink in until we were eating lunch at the Flying J and his cellphone didn't stop ringing. We talked for a half hour or so and then he decided he was going to take the day off. We kept splitting six packs of beer and then we drove to Hutchinson Island. We kept talking about what it was like to be in my situation and he became increasingly anxious and frustrated with his. We sat on the beach and he complained about how monotonous his life is and I assured him he had his blessings but he disagreed. We drove to a BP gas station on Avenue D and Highway 1. It was a strange situation unfolding.

The guy 'Jean' walked up to us and I rolled down my window to see what he wanted. He leans in and looks at me and says "I know you, we were in Hollywood Jail together." This being untrue I say I was never in Jail, anywhere, ever. He looks at my new acquaintance and repeats his mantra. Driver says oh yeah I know you, playing along. Driver gets out and walks over to him and they got out of earshot so I still have no clue of what they said to each other. But Jean ended up getting in the Chevy with us and directing us to his house. We were deep in the ghetto now and Driver was getting really nervous. Driver slowly gets coaxed inside the ghetto and the house and I follow. So were all sitting around a kitchen table and everyone is nervous as hell except me and Cynthia, Jeans sister. So I am getting more and more confused by the situation. The black guy Jean takes out a couple of white nuggets and rolls them into a joint. I say "Those are crack rocks, I'm out" and I walk outside and wait for Driver.

I find out shortly that Driver has decided to cheat on the wife he said was so lovely earlier. Hes going to find a whore. I tell him not to leave me and he assures me he wont. He returns after a half hour later and I get in the truck. Jean doesn't like that I have picked the front seat, confused and now angry I foolishly decide I don't want to give it to him. His friend pulls me out of the SUV and tells me to sit down. I tell him I prefer to stand. I tell Driver not to let them walk all over him. This offends Jean's friend and he asks me why I feel this way and I try to explain but its like trying to talk into a bullhorn. Driver meanwhile is in a full panic and is telling me not to express my opinions in "the hood" and that I will get beaten. I try to reassure him that I'll be fine. Driver and Jean leave to get Gin and Juice. They never return. It starts to get late and my cool wears off so by now I am pretty concerned I won't ever see Driver or my Pack again. I mention that I might call the police and next thing I know I am being whisked away to the outskirts of town. Jean's friend tells me that I probably regret saying that word, police, and that I need to get out of the car. I tell him that I'm not getting out because I have no idea where I am but he insists. This goes on for about ten minutes and then he says that he can drive somewhere where they'll only ask once. So I get out.

Now I'm figuring its time for the police. I've done all I can to avoid it but now I have no choice. So I call them and wait, and a single officer shows up I tell him just enough of the story so I don't incriminate anyone because Christ as soon as they find out I'm a witness to something they'll threaten me with being an accessory until I cave. So he drives me to the BP where we met Jean and we ask the clerk for the security camera footage and he tells us that the cameras are fake, every last one of them. So the cop takes me back to where he found me and I thank him for his help. By now I'm really pissed off and I'm willing to try anything to get my stuff back so I walk back into the ghetto. Bad fucking idea. Apparently despite me never having done anything to these assholes they decide I'm scum and that I'm a cop. So they slowly but surely become increasingly violent and unpredictable. One woman swears I'm a cop for sure. "I knows 'em when I sees 'em." she screams in my face. "He'll have our neighborhood burning by tammara! I'll kill him myself!" Well apparently you don't 'knows 'em'. I ask the clerk of the store that I've taken refuge in for the phone, he tells me hes already dialed 911. He tells the dispatcher where I am and I tell her I need to be escorted out immediately and that my life is in danger. Two cops show up inside of a minute and one of them is a real squat Latino, really muscular. This struck me as completely necessary for him to survive his beat. He took my ID and my story and drove me to the Greyhound station.

Hollywood.

I hitched a ride with a really old black trucker from Georgia on down to Ormond Beach, Florida. From there I got a ride from Donald, yet another black trucker, down to Hollywood, Florida. I can't believe how many rides I've gotten from black truckers now, its unheard of in the hitchhiker community! Donald, despite my protests, bought me dinner. Then he called up a girl he new in Miami who came and gave me a ride down into Hollywood. They dropped me off across from a vacant lot with an old four story parking garage. I thanked them a dozen times and then hopped out and started exploring the area. I knew that in a big city my best option was hiding my gear on top of something tall and inaccessible. So I set out to find a ladder, fire escape, or anything that I could use to get on top of something. I never did so I settled on the garage. I figured that since it had an operational elevator that most people wouldn't use the stairs from the fourth floor. I was right. I spent the first night meeting the ocean and the wind from Tropical Storm Noel, she now goes by Hurricane Noel. I liked her much, much more as a tropical storm. I slept in an abandoned construction site, between a stack of unused benches and a giant bush.

I began exploring the boardwalk as soon as I was awake. I spent the day fruitlessly searching for a Library, sadly no one knew where it was. Now that I have found it I passed it several times. I bought a cheap bike from Walmart for the I shit you not price of $59 with taxes. It shouldn't have surprised me though when the handlebars fell off on the ride home to my parking garage. I locked up my new possession and met Soul at the sunglass shop across the street. She was a young girl from Israel and I got really fucking lucky finding her because she was so helpful. She bought me pizza and introduced me to Debra who has let me stay with her until the storm dissipates. Debra is from Detroit and like Soul and I, came to Miami looking for a change of scenery.

Sorry to disappoint residents of the northern states but the ocean water here is a frigid 82 degrees fahrenheit and the air measures about the same. There are beautiful palm trees everywhere, ripe with coconuts for me to eat. Though I haven't had a great many opportunities to enjoy the scenery yet because of this diabolic storm system. I hope I will tomorrow though.

The Fest.

Wow the fest was fucking awesome. I mean goddamn. Three days of punk and beer and slight starvation. The first night was a bit rough, I got separated from Eric and Derek so I wandered around Gainesville drunk and alone. This isn't the first time that I've done this but its one thing to start the night alone and its another to end it alone. We started the day by meeting most of the other festers on top of the Holiday Inn, next to the pool. Everybody was drinking tons of cheap beer and laughing and yelling. It was fantastic. The atmosphere was perfect. We left the hotel later to go see some bands, most of the bands the first night were mediocre. I caught Naked Raygun later on into the night, they kicked ass. I ate some freegan sushi some girl gave me and stumbled around Gainesville. I met coyote on a side street. He let me sleep on his couch despite his girlfriend's protests. We stayed up late swapping conspiracy theories and watching youtube.

I woke up, and stumbled out into the sunlight. I heard a door slam behind me and I ran back to find Coyote behind it. He asked what I was up to and I said I was going to see some more bands. I thanked him for the couch and took a piece of paper. I wrote something like:

"Dear Eric and Derek,

I am walking between the hotel and here, the car. Please find me so I can eat.

Thanks,
Matt."

And stuck it on the car. I gave up on seeing Eric and Derek after about twenty minutes and walked on down to the Market Street Pub. There were a few bands playing at noon and I happened to find Eric and Derek. We saw Pink Razors and they put on a pretty good show. I went on to see The Underground Railroad to Candyland with Eric. We saw them a week before, in Richmond on their way to the Fest and I liked them so much I figured I ought to see them again. It was a great performance and the whole crowd got into it which is always great. They don't take themselves too seriously so of course they were wearing between them a lizard, pikachu, and gorilla costume. After this we got some pizza at Five Star, behind common grounds. Then we went to see Gaslight Anthem, and Fake Problems. Both bands put on a really good show and I want to see both of them again. Fake Problems especially. Then we all went to The Venue to see Dillinger Four. We had to wait till Avail finished playing but it was worth it. Dillinger Four managed to put on a really good show despite blowing two amps. They remind me a lot of NOFX except that the rest of the band doesn't really talk at all. We went to 1982 and saw five more bands before heading to the backyard of these three girl who love festers.

They spray painted some signs that said "Camp Fest 6." At first it was a small gathering, but it grew quickly and two young punks brought a stolen keg of Guinness Stout. It was a rowdy crowd and about five of us dedicated ourselves to getting the Guinness out of the keg. There were two dudes with guitars so they provided ample music for us to enjoy. One of them played stuff as diverse as Lit and The Offspring, the other played songs exclusively by Frank Turner.

The next day was our last so aside from a quick stint at The Atlantic and Derek leaving to see Lopan Takes Japan (Less Than Jake under an alias), we spent the full day at the second street bakery with the intention of seeing This Bike is a Pipe Bomb. There was a microscopic stage outside under a cheap tarp in a parking lot behind the tiny bakery. We saw a full lineup solely comprised of bands signed to Planet X Records and it was great. I think it was the best part of the weekend for me. Theres really two kinds of "punks" the kind who take everything really seriously, and the kind who don't take anything nearly serious enough. I find myself much, much closer to the later category. We saw Ghost Mice first, who were so full of heart and passion they reached the back of the crowd even though they were only playing on an acoustic guitar and a fiddle, completely devoid of an amplification mind you. Then we saw Defiance, Ohio who I wish I had heard of before so I could sing along to their songs. Finally we saw This Bike is a Pipe Bomb and they rocked so damn hard. I couldn't help but smile during the entire show. The were so funny and great. Matt and Kim played after them, and while I did really like their show, they weren't really quite my style.

Eric and I left and walked back to the downtown area. Upon arriving we both decided we were much to hungry to pass up food so we went to El Indio at the other end of town and ate some $3 burritos. We all left shortly after and Eric and Derek left me at a Truck Stop in Georgia just across the state line.