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.

Scooting on down to Florida.

Tomorrow Derek, Eric, and I are going down to The Fest 6 in Gainesville, Florida. Oddly enough I wanted to go to Gainesville anyways just because its got a live punk culture, but when I accidentally discovered 'the fest' one evening, when I was checking the time of a $5 show, I knew I had to go. So thats my next stop. I'm not sure if I am going to head back north to Asheville or not.

Cool encounters.

I went to the National Folk Festival which was pretty nice. I caught a few bands and got some good barbecue. My favorite was this old man who played the Autoharp. He was really spirited and into his music. The Festival was intertwined with some historic sites. There was an old foundry and armory on the shore. Eric and I walked along an old bridge over the James that had been restored and converted into an outdoor exhibit about the Civil War and its relation to Richmond. On our way out of the festival I spotted some traveling kids so I told Eric I would catch up with him later. Kenny, Eric, Romeo, and Lexi had come from all over and they were all cool. At first we were all a little standoffish and Romeo didn't trust me at all but we all opened up. Eric helped to break the ice a lot with generic questions about my itinerary. They were planning on catching out that night. They were going to find a train that was headed for a barge that would take it across the Chesapeake to Cape Charles. They said I couldn't go with them but they said I could play dice and hang out with them. So I sat and played high-low and talked and joked with them while they drank cheap rum. I later found out that they were also headed to Puerto Rico for the winter. They said that they would be in cities and bars mostly because they are a band and wanted to play. Romeo plays Mandolin and wants to buy a Guitar. He said he'll spange for it and I believe it. Romeo and Kenny were really funny because they had just read Ava's Man by Rick Rick Bragg so they were on a helluva sexism stint. They were drunk so they were extra vocal about it too. It was especially funny to watch the reactions off people passing by. Kenny had been beaten up by girlfriends before so this probably contributed to his attitude. Lexi and I tried to convince them to no avail and just kinda shrugged it off. Romeo was hilarious because he was really drunk, dark, Spanish, and pretended to be racist in spite of it. Eric was interesting because he was really mellow but his face was tattooed all over. He looked intimidating but if you knew him you'd know he was harmless. Lexi was pretty and pretty reserved the whole time. Kenny was really funny and said all kinds of strange things. It was a blast hanging out with these kids. I left when it got dark out and they were almost ready to pack up and head out to their campsite to wait for a train and roast weenies. I hope I see them down in Puerto Rico.

A Map of My Journey.

I created a map of my journey so far for everyone to see.

I will periodically update this so everyone knows where I've been. I change the colors of the markers to show different trips and I put little green houses up for destinations.

Minooka to Richmond: Part One.

Andy dropped me off at the Hinsdale oasis. Where after a couple of hours a dude gave me a ride south to Joliet, Illinois about four miles outside of Joliet. I hiked into the city and found a community college. I searched for Travel Plazas and found one in Minooka, Illinois about seven miles west of Joliet. So I walked to a seven eleven and started making a sign. I was coloring in the N as a Canadian asked me where Minooka was. I said it was seven miles down I-80 west and if he could give me a ride there. He did. We got to talking on the way there and he said he is retired. In his free time while his wife works he buys cars on Ebay in the US and then drives them up to Canada and sells them. I asked for some tips on how to do this seeing as I've wanted to do exactly that for some time now. He dropped me off and I thanked him.

I walked over to the Pilot which was a smaller one compared to some I've seen and hid my stuff. Alejandro walked past me carrying a pack so I asked him if he was hitching and he said he was. He was trying to get to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He was in Greenville, North Carolina and his pickup blew a head gasket. So he started hitching west. He used to live in Fort Collins with his ex girlfriend but he found himself in Jail a few times and decided to leave. He was a really odd guy, he had a notebook where he kept everything; pictures, discharge papers from the army, discharge papers from shelters and county jails. He read one aloud proudly that said “Bipolar” among other things. He said he hadn't slept for five days and that he was really fucking tired.

He was a bit shorter then most men, about five four maybe. He was Apache, Mexican, and Caucasian but he looked Apache. He had an odd approach to getting rides. He would sort of yell at the drives which I thought was a terrible way to ask for a ride, he claimed that this filtered out pussies and cowards. He said it would get him cooler drivers. It probably does but goddamn he gets rejected a lot. We sat by the lot and drank some beers and talked about things while our clothes washed and dried in the Pilot. Eventually as the night wore on I trusted him less and less and hid my pack even better. I also started working harder to get a ride out. Coincidently he was the one that got me the ride out. He pulled a driver over rather rudely and demanded that he give me a ride east. I stood awkwardly behind him trying to gesture my lack of association with Alejandro. The driver asked where I was headed I told him Pennsylvania and he said he was going to Toledo, Ohio. I said I'll think about it.

Alejandro went inside briefly so I ran off to grab my pack from my spot. The driver came out I said goodbye to Alejandro and I was off to Toledo. As we approached the rig the driver said that the passenger side door was jammed. This immediately alarmed me. So I got in the driver side and climbed across. We started driving and I noticed the dash of his truck had been decked out with custom chromed apparati. The knobs had been changed to six shooter chambers with bullets and and everything was lit with low red lights... The lining of the cab was velvet too. I stealthily tested the lock on the door and it was completely broken. This is right around when I broke into a cold sweat and a silent panic. He didn't look strong but anybody can hold a pistol. I realized too that I left my knife at Andy's. I asked him if I could test the door just to make sure it would work in an accident. Sure enough he told me to trust him that it would work. I was pretty damned scared by now but we got on the interstate and started moving. After a while I started to trust him and realized I was gonna be alright.

He dropped me off at a Pilot in Toledo, Ohio. I started walking around and found a nice spot behind a birch tree near a cornfield. I said to myself as I was bedding down that I wished this wasn't so damned easy and I made the mistake of asking for a challenge.

When I woke up it was raining and my stuff was already wet, so I packed up everything and dashed to the TA. I stashed it inside and got some hot soup. I started making my rounds along the fuel line and eventually I got a ride from a fellow from Lithuania. Once we were on the road he started talking about his past and how he was a troubled youth. I later realized he thought I was troubled and possibly on the run from the law. He said he was in a gang in Lithuania and he fled from a prison sentence to the US. He started a life here and then he got into trouble again. He said he got into a drunken fight with a dude and cut him up pretty good with a knife. The guy wound up in a coma and the police came for him so he fled again. He apparently ran to a church and asked for help, of course all they could do to help him was to make him a man of god. He spent hours talking about how god changed his life and left me at a truck stop in Youngstown, Ohio. I tried to tell him about how becoming Atheist changed mine.

Minooka to Richmond: Part Two.

I got a ride from Youngstown to Conyngham, Pennsylvania from a small guy who cursed about everything and everyone. He cursed and chain smoked all the way to Conyngham.

I walked over to the Pilot and saw John standing on the corner looking out of luck. He said he was headed south to his Brothers house to kill a month and then find work somewhere. I could tell he came outta Philly from his strong accent. He had a helluva twitch and would loose control of his neck and head frequently and start jerking sideways. It looked painful, he wasn't crazy just some kinda nerve disorder I guess. I never asked because it didn't seem Polite. He mentioned that he was really thirsty but he got kicked out of the Pilot. I brought him some water and he thanked me a million times. I started working the fuel lines again and I was about ready to post up for the night. I went back inside and saw a guy I asked earlier talking to a big man who was sweating like mad. I got to talking with them and they said “We gotta get this kid a ride hes real nice, theres gotta be someone here.” So they got on the CB and asked around nobody could though and the big guy, Dan, was headed to Toledo and the skinny guy, Shane, had to drop a load off nearby but was not headed south.

Shane and I sat in his condo cab and watched a movie while we listened to the CB. We never found anyone going south, so I thanked him for his trouble and bedded down in a small wooded area. In the morning I found Shane still parked in the lot. I knocked on his Cab and he said he had to drop his load at a nearby town and said I was welcome to come with him. So I packed up my stuff and came with him to the drop. We waited, and waited, and finally a foreman came up and handed him the papers and said they finished unloading. He got on his Quallcomm and got a new route. He had to go north to Taylor, Pennsylvania and get 44,000 pounds of quaker oats and then, lucky me, go south on I-81 right past Gettysburg, Pennsylvania! I wanted to go to Gettysburg because I knew of a place to stay and they have apple orchards all around town.

So we set out on our journey north to Taylor then south to Chambersburg. All the way talking and joking. Late at night we finally reached Chambersburg and he let me out. I thanked him and we exchanged phone numbers. Shane makes trips down to Florida from Nashville every other week so I've got a guaranteed ride south.

Before I went to bed I thought about going to Gettysburg and then about how hard it might be to get out of Gettysburg so I decided to go South to Richmond, Virginia instead to stay with my dear old friend Eric. I got a ride from a hilarious stoner truck driver headed south towards Front Royal, Virginia. He let me out at a plaza and I got a ride from an old trucker who took me all the way to Richmond. I learned a real hard lesson that night about not falling asleep before your drop. This is the way I remember it. We were headed down I-95 South which would have taken me right through Richmond and by Eric's house. He stopped to fuel up and we left at which point I nodded off. I woke up some time later as he was pulling over next to Exit 28 B on I-295 South. He let me out here and my mistake was not saying “Thanks but I don't know where I am. You need to leave me somewhere safe and not on the side of the interstate next to an onramp.” So I got out and I walked six miles through the dark with my pack hoping to find something or someone. For a while I was furious and thought I would have to walk thirteen miles to get to Eric's. Luckily he let me out somewhat near Richmond International Airport where I was able to find a ride to Eric's house from an old man and his grandson.