Inked memories

EL PASO, TEXAS - JULY 22 -- I felt like a lion taking shelter from the heat as Brian and I lay underneath a tree that belonged in the Serengeti. A girl waved to us in the distance and approached us.

‘Do you guys like art?’ was her opening line.

‘Yeah,’ we replied. Kyra thumbed through her weathered folder of sketches and pulled out a few sheets. The drawings and situation reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite, but I tried being polite.

‘These are really good. I could never do anything like this,’ I said.

From her family’s campsite 20 feet away, her little sister shouted, ‘SHOW OFF!’

‘I thought I’d come over and talk to you guys since you looked bored just talking to each other.’ the 18-year-old said.

After 63 straight days together, it's very possible Brian and I might have been discussing our favorite flavor of Ramen noodle. But we happened to be in the middle of one of the best conversations we’ve had on the entire trip, talking about the growth we've had as individuals without the ability to pinpoint the moment it happened. We talked about how it's similar to knowing when it's time to get a haircut without being able to feel the hair growing from day-to-day.

She continued, ‘All the boys in Abilene have girlfriends. None of them are single. They don’t wave at me when I wave at them either.’

Awkward silence.

‘That’s a problem,’ Brian said as part of a conversation that grew more awkward by the second.

‘Do ya’ll have girlfriends?’

‘Yup,’ Brian responded, answering for me without blinking.

‘How long have you been together?’ Kyra asked Brian.

‘What is it…July?'

'Yep.'

'Nine months then.’ Brian said. His acting performance made Ben Affleck seem tolerable.

We tried to look around for an out, but only saw Kyra's family lingering in the near horizon.

Then came the line of the day -

‘Ya, my dad probably thinks I’m trying to have sex with you.'

'I hope not,' Brian said.

'It’s hard, ya know. There’s no single boys in Abilene and that’s why I go to Maine every summer. For boys and fishin'.’

‘You guys look muscular,’ she continued.

We informed her it was time for us to leave (a minor fib since we did have a ride coming at any second).

‘Well, can I at least get a birthday hug from you guys? I turn 19 next week,’ Kyra ended with.

We both gave her a hug and walked off. It would have been easy to dismiss her as just plain weird, but Kyra was a lonely girl more than anything. 

***

Brian was writing a new post in the lobby of the Super 8 motel when I struck up a conversation with Tina, the woman behind the front counter. We chatted for a little bit about how long she had been in Abilene (12 years) and why she moved from California (earthquake). On my way back from grabbing Brian and I a sandwich from subway, I handed Tina a bottle of green tea. I didn’t make a big deal of it and hadn’t thought about whether or not I should get it for her in the gas station. I just thought she’d enjoy it. Before this trip I would have never thought to do something like that, no matter how simple.

Tina dropped us off after work at a free camping spot. I’m pretty sure she was unaware of what goes on at that location because shortly after we parted ways, a man named Gary stopped his bright yellow car beside us and asked if we were okay with things getting ‘wild’ later on.

‘Wild?’ We asked. I thought he was talking about young kids out drinking beer or partying loud. Soon I would find out this was far from the circumstance.

Gary said, ‘Ya, people come around here and go cruisin'. I just thought I’d warn you that these parts can be wild at times. I go cruisin' at times around here and didn’t know if you guys were into that stuff.’

Still puzzled, we finally asked, ‘What do you mean by cruisin' and wild?’

He responded subtly but quickly, ‘Gays.’

Gary could sense we were oblivious to the fact our chosen campsite was a place for single men to meet after dark, so he drove us down the road a few miles to a spot we could be undisturbed - the place where we would meet Kyra.

***

Tina told us that her ex-husband, Benny, had offered Brian and I his backyard to pitch our tent in and was having a little BBQ we could be a part of. She informed us that people think he's a scary guy, but that he is actually really nice.

'Why do people think that?' Brian asked.

'Because he looks scary,' she said as we drove toward Benny's house.

We liked Benny right away.

He had a mix of Spanish and country music playing when we shook hands while his children swam in the pool and lit firecrackers leftover from the 4th of July.

Brian and I inhaled the meat, tortillas, corn, and asparagus Benny had made for his three kids and us, as he told tales of his walking trip from Mexico to California 25 years ago. He told Brian and I that even if we lose all of our notes, we'll remember our adventure forever. this made us feel good. He was 19 at the time of his trek and he talked about it like it happened yesterday.

‘One time, the four of us were offered mountain oysters. I didn't think they raised oysters in the mountains, but they were delicious. Then, as we were eating, everybody was laughing at us and we didn't know why. They finally told us what mountain oysters are….. bull’s balls!’

Benny had six tattoos. Two of them had been done by Benny himself with nothing more than a sharpened wire coat hanger and some ink. He said it seemed more like carving his body than getting a tattoo. He wasn't trying to be tough about it. 'Man it hurt!' he laughed. The one of his grandmother's name across his neck was the only tattoo done professionally. He said it was a breeze compared to the others. 

We lie on top of the soft backyard grass that night, thinking a cozy night's sleep was in store for us. Instead, the neighborhood dogs cried out in the night. Brian and I, unable to fall asleep, laughed as we tried to outdo each other with jokes of what the dogs might be saying to us.

'What's been the most difficult part of your journey so far?'

'Is that tent a Kelte?'

We managed to fall asleep at some point and woke to Benny offering to give us a ride to a high-traffic gas station along the Interstate on his way to work. We helped him move heavy slabs of granite to his neighbors house and loaded up our bags, not knowing where the road might lead that day.

Like Benny's tattoos, the stories of hiking with his three buddies across Mexico will be with him forever. His memories will forever remain a memory for us as well.

-DC

Pick me up

ABILENE, TEXAS - July 20 -- The three of us waited in the living room, staring at the front door while listening for a knock. The potential buyers were an hour late.

'I don't know the first thing about selling a couch,' Denny announced. I wondered what Bryan was thinking of our present situation. He had flown to New Orleans from Scotland, rented a car and driven us to Texas to be a part of our journey. The good friend of mine only had two short days to spend with us. And although he was well aware our lives were very random, I was sure that helping sell Denny's sister's sofa in Houston was not his idea of a holiday.

But he didn't seem to mind one bit as we began rattling off funny things we could do when we greeted the guests. Like, for example, act as if we were throwing a surprise party when the door opened, or informing them the couch had been wet on more times than we could count - especially since deep down we didn't want to see the piece of furniture go since one of us hoped to sleep on it that night. My personal favorite was calling Denny's sister - who was out of town - to tell her that we weren't successful with the transaction, but we did manage to sell other items in the apartment. And also, Bryan - a travel agent - had sold them a nice cruise package. The three of us laughed like hell at all the hypothetical situations. The knock on the door finally came. We gave it our best shot. However, the couch stayed put.

***

We roadtripped west all the way to Austin. Bryan was really going out of his way for us, but he seemed excited to be part of the adventure. I was happy to see him and Denny spend time together. It's always nice to see friends who have never met one another before bond like old buddies.

Bryan mentioned he had a brother-in-law who lived somewhere in Austin, and that we could stay at his place for the night. Anytime I imagine what a person's home might look like, I always picture something middle-class. I never assume the worst, I never desire the best. I took slow steps into the place, feeling like I didn't belong. I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me it was the most expensive pad in the city.

I fell in love with Austin right away. The owner of the apartment, Ray, let us borrow his mountain bikes for the day, making us promise we'd check out Zilker Park. I've never seen so many young, in-shape people in one gathering. People were biking, running, kayaking, jumping off bridges, you name it. It was just like the 20-somethings mecca I had been told about by many people. Now I got to experience it first-hand. I chatted with locals as frequently as possible about what they thought of the city. All good things.

Once Bryan had to move on toward his wife Mandy's hometown in Nebraska, Denny and I felt out of place. Ray said it was no problem to stay one more night, but it didn't feel right since he was off doing his own thing. As I reflected about our situation on the balcony, I found myself missing my family I had just seen in New Orleans. I missed my Scottish friend who had come and gone in what seemed like a blink of an eye. I wondered what the hell Denny and I were doing on the 32nd story of the most expensive place I'd ever been in.

I had lost the plot of the trip, and what made it worse was we were the ones writing it. I was concerned I was burnt out. I forgot the thrill of the first day we walked out of the airport in Maine or what it felt like to camp out in the woods for the first time. Our minds had absorbed so much that I was worried we had perhaps reached maximum capacity for experiences on this particular journey. Meeting strangers had become so routine that I feared I was failing to appreciate the beauty of it all.

I spoke to Denny about my feelings, using the analogy of swimming out into a large ocean from the shore. When you can still see the land, you are able to see how far you've gone. But once all you see around you is water, you have no reference point, and you feel lost, like maybe you are no longer making progress.

Although we were on the roof of Austin, I found myself feeling so low. 

***

Brett Baker picked us up in downtown Austin right at 9 a.m., just like he promised. The sports television producer in San Antonio had written us a few weeks back to say he had enjoyed the blog and wanted to meet up if we found ourselves in Texas. We called him to tell him we were in fact in Texas, yet were feeling a bit lost.

He was up for a roadtrip to Abilene. He had never been there, and either really wanted to go, or pretended he was curious to see it. Either way, we liked him right away.

In the six hours we spent with Brett, we discussed just about everything from cute girls we've encountered along the way to the meaning of success and how we all agree it should be synonymous with happiness.

He said his father, Dr. Dan Baker, wrote a book titled, 'What Happy People Know,' which touched on a few things we were curious about. I can't wait to reach a Barnes and Noble to check it out, however I think if you look up the word desolate in the dictionary, there may be a picture of West Texas.

After some chatting, we figured out that Brett and my brother - a sportswriter - had been in the same locker room on more than one occasion. I like to think it's a big world but one with lots of odd connections.

Brett explained to us that he had discovered our site through a link on SI.com. We were oblivious to this fact, but were glad he had found us. He joked that it was difficult to explain to his buddies that he had to cancel a tubing trip because he was driving two guys he had never met to a town not known for much several hours away from his home.

'I told him to call me at 8 o'clock tonight just in case this is all an elaborate plan to leave me in a ditch and take my car,' Brett joked.

We ate lunch in a friendly diner in the touristy town of Fredricksburg. Cowboys or people dressed as them (I don't really know the difference) roamed around. Denny returned from the restroom to inform us he had been walked in on at the most awkward of moments.

'Some guy definitely just saw me on the toilet,' he said as we all burst out laughing. The fact alone that Denny was comfortable telling this story made it clear that Brett was already a good friend.

We stared out into the abyss that is West Texas. Present and future ghost towns lined the roads. As we stared at the old, deteriorating buildings, Denny made the comment that someone has very vivid memories of times spent in these places. I couldn't get this thought out of my head as I sat silent in the backseat.

Brett, who has a tattoo of the Nebraska Cornhuskers on his arm and the years they've won championships, agreed with us that although small-town America was disappearing, he still loved coming from a town not many people had heard of in the Midwest.

Our new 38-year-old friend admitted he lived a bit vicariously through us and our website. Although he seemed to know every inch of our adventure thus far, he inquired about the best parts of our journey thus far. We told him it's how one thing always leads to another that amazes us most. 

'Had we not been here at this time, this wouldn't have happened,' we explained through several anecdotes.

When we reached Abilene, my blood started pumping faster. I was feeling the rush that comes along with being dropped in an unfamiliar town filled with nothing but unfamiliar people. Denny had a good point that walking into a town makes it easier to ease into the notion.

I could tell Brett was not at ease with idea of dropping us just anywhere. We called the police station to ask for ideas. They didn't have many. We told Brett the gas station was fine, or anywhere for that matter. We ended up grabbing our bags and hugging Brett goodbye in the Super 8 parking lot. We were officially back in the saddle as Brett drove off into the distance.

***

We pondered where to go from there as we looked at the empty map of West Texas while sitting on our backpacks in front of the hotel. Before we could come up with a plan, the Holbrooks pulled up to check in for the night.

David asked us what we were up to.

'If you try to walk toward El Paso, you will die,' he stated as fact. It was exciting to know how difficult the coming days would be, yet scary at the same time.

We chitchatted for a few minutes, finding out that they were the proud parents of one of college football's most impressive quarterbacks - Chase Holbrook of New Mexico State, who threw for over 4,600 yards his sophomore season.

David asked us if we were staying in the hotel. We told him we weren't sure since it typically wasn't part of our budget. The police had told us of a place we could camp for free, but there was no running water anywhere around, so it didn't sound ideal.

As I went into the lobby to inquire about rates, David was on his way out after checking in. He quickly shook my hand and hopped in the car. The girl at the counter seemed a bit flustered and said she had forgotten to give him his key. I flagged him down and told him he was in 222 as I handed the key through the window. When I went back into the lobby, the girl was smiling. 

'We're on a bit of a budget. What's the best you can do for a room for the night?' I asked her.

'Actually, that man just paid for your room for you,' she said, still smiling.

***

Dozens of people have gone out of their way for us this summer, and I don't think we've taken a single one for granted. But as I've found myself losing focus lately, these last few acts of kindness by strangers not only helped us out, they reminded me what makes the world such a beautiful place.

Denny and I sprawled out in our respective hotel beds as we cranked the AC and flipped on the TV. A map of the country appeared on the weather channel.

'Maine looks so far away,' Denny said.

'Yeah it does,' I said.

'I'll never look at a map of America the same again,' he said.

I looked at the Atlantic coast, realizing exactly how far we'd come. I looked at the Pacific ocean, and for the first time, felt the presence of the opposite coast. It was as if I could almost see the sea from our window. I was starting to figure out the plot again.

I thought of everything that had happened from Maine to Texas and how many stories we have to tell. I also thought of how we've grown and maybe that's why things got complicated. We know how to camp in the woods. We know how to be sweaty and smelly and still approach complete strangers. Was there much more to achieve? Had we done enough?

'If we reached the west coast soon, would you be satisfied with the trip?' I asked Denny.

'Yeah, I would be,' he said with confidence.

'Yeah, me too.'

***

I woke this morning feeling very refreshed. I chatted with the Holbrooks over coffee, finding myself really enjoying the simple pleasures of conversing with people we would have otherwise never met had we not taken off. Handshakes, hugs, smiles, small kind gestures and chit-chat have been our fuel thus far. I don't foresee a shortage of it any time soon thanks to some very good people.

The Pacific looks very far away, but at least now I can feel it.

-BT

Things you may or may not care to know...

METAIRIE, LOUISIANA - July 15 -- After the first day of volunteering at Desire Street Ministries, Denny and I had to take quick showers (separately) to be ready in time for dinner. I had encouraged my brother and his wife to have their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Carrie, over to their house that evening. They agreed it was a good idea. Sarah made the best-tasting lasagna, and we chatted over the rarely-used kitchen table Mike had brought in from the garage that day. We learned that Carrie had lost both her husband of 55-years and a son two months prior and now lived alone. She quivered as she spoke of this, but maintained her composure and immediately switched the focus to the six-week-old baby in the room. Will made everyone smile.

-Denny and I found ourselves in collared shirts (loaned by my brother) for the first time this summer while attending my new nephew Will's baptism in Houma, Louisiana. Following the ceremony, we gathered at my sister-in-law's parents' house for pasta-laya, fried fish, diving contests in the pool and underwater charades. Most of my extended family was visiting from the Midwest this week. It was the first time I had been part of a summer family vacation in five years. I felt like a kid again. We played a giant game of telephone that included my 5-year-old niece and 86-year-old grandma. It ended in hilarity every single time.

-I got my hair cut for the first time this summer. A simple No. 3 blade all around.

-I learned the art of changing a diaper, but have yet to attempt it. I did, however, master a new technique for holding six-week-old Will - one in which my brother has put into his arsenal for making his son happy. It involves putting one hand through the little guy's legs and supporting him by resting his chest in your palm so he can see the world around him.

-My mom loaned me $20 to test my luck at the casino in downtown New Orleans. I multiplied it by 20, nearly doubling our remaining summer funds. My family went to the bar on Bourbon Street where my brother and sister-in-law met for the very first time. I'm sure glad they did.

-I took three baths in my brother's jet-powered tub. This helped me clear my mind and allowed me to nearly finish the book I'm reading - The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I highly recommend it.

-Denny and I multiplied our knowledge of Louisiana culture tenfold via Wikipedia. We learned why New Orleans is called the Big Easy, the difference between Voodoo and Hoodoo, what the Fleur de Lis is, and what the difference is between Cajun and Creole.

-Denny and I performed a pair of physical activities together other than walking - a game of one-on-one basketball and a round of golf as part of my family reunion. Denny won by a couple points on the court, but we both found ourselves winded at 2-2. My consolation prize was knowing I still have the ability to dunk a basketball in my bare feet. I was feeling the effects for days. On the course, Denny - the only competitor not technically in the family - hit the game-tying putt on number 18. This also gave us another reason to use the collared shirts my brother lent us since the golf pro wouldn't allow us to play in our No Stranger Land t-shirts.

-We are shipping a box of unnecessary stuff home for the third time this summer.

-I did some job searching for the fall. I am not ready for this adventure to come to an end, but I figure it's time to think about the next step with our journey being half over and all.

-I weigh as much as I do when we started. I thought I would be skinnier by now. I think the desert will make us shed a few pounds. I am nervous and excited for the Southwest.

-I got to watch my favorite TV show - Flight of the Conchords - at my brother's house.

-We traded my brother a No Stranger Land shirt for two plain-white undershirts and the collared shirt Denny grew attached to.

-New Orleans is a 26-hour and 17-minute drive from Portland, Maine. The drive from New Orleans to San Diego - 26 hours and 26 minutes.

-BT

By you

Candyland

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA - July 10 -- The high-school sign off the side of the road read that classes are to begin on the same day as my birthday - August 8. What caught me off guard was the year - 2005. Katrina had struck nearly three ago, and the sign hadn't changed since. As we drove through the ninth ward, I noticed the houses had giant orange and black spray painted X's on the outside to communicate a piece of information in each quadrant - the group that inspected the home, when they did it, any pets rescued, and finally, the number of dead bodies.

We showed up at Desire Street Mission to see if there was any way we could contribute. To say they needed help would be an understatement. Our 21-year-old boss for the day, Lori, scheduled Brian and I to be part of the team that was to gut the inside of a water-damaged house. On our way to the work site, I noticed another team down the street getting ready to prime boards on the front of another hurricane victim's home. I painted houses during college summers and knew refocusing my energy in that area would be more beneficial. I asked the group leader about joining and immediately became the painting expert.

I gave painting directions to high school kids who had never before held a paintbrush. Brian needed a bit of instructing as well. I felt like my dad, who taught me to paint many years ago - the only difference being that my dad never gave me ice cream breaks. Geraldine, the woman living in the house, appeared from her home as she left for work. She smiled and told us how much she appreciated the help.

We finished painting and joined the people gutting the house down the street. I began peeling off fake-brick siding from the exterior of the house and while Brian filled up a dumpster with materials that were scattered across the front yard. It sounded like a firework exploded when the florescent lights in Brian's hands shattered as they scraped the pavement. His pants were rolled up due to the heat and we worried the glass may have stuck into his legs. He somehow escaped without injury.

The clothes we had worn during the day had a new look due to the sloppy painting and demolition debris. Luckily, we had turned our best clothes inside out. We changed down to our underwear to do so between two houses earlier in broad daylight.

***

Brian and I taught Junior Achievement to a group of third graders at a summer camp located in the upper ninth ward. The teaching objective was to stress the importance of newspapers and have the kids write their own story.

‘Why do we have newspapers?’ Brian asked as the session started.

Three out of the eight kids responded with the variation of - ‘To see if anyone has been murdered?’

We put all the kids' individual stories together at the end to compile a complete newspaper edition. They had written stories about their favorite basketball players, God, themselves, and other positive slices of life. None about murder.

Tia is a first-grade girl who lives in the upper ninth ward - an impoverished neighborhood to begin with, not to mention the struggles that multiplied from Katrina. She was the yellow plastic figure during Candyland. She never went out of turn and played only one game. After coming in second place, she walked over to me, sat on my lap, and collected the used cards while I managed the other children during the game. Tia became my friend and soon was introducing me to all of her cousins who were inside the gymnasium. She was either holding my hand or on my back the majority of the day. She doesn’t normally like boys but said she liked me. It made me smile ear to ear.

I saw Brian was sweating pretty intensely when I came into the gym. He was in the middle of playing the trust game with a group of kids. Standing with their backs toward Brian, they fall backward into his arms, trusting that he would be there to catch them. He got the kids so excited they were all trying to fall back at the same time with no one behind them. Sitting next to the action, the little kids began to pull at my hair, saying how soft it looked. A second-grade boy asked if we could trade hair. I would've if I could've.

As we left, I made sure to give a proper goodbye to my friend.

‘Are you gonna be here forever?’ Tia asked.

Sadly, I had to tell her no. I went to give her one more hug, which turned into five, maybe six.

-DC