atlanta, ga

The greyhound dropped me off in a bad neighborhood at a bad hour. I’m the only white boy in sight, which isn’t inherently bad, except it makes me stick out horribly. Me and my big green hiking pack, we’re netting a lot of unwanted attention. They see me from across the street and start ambling towards me, sporting the long, exaggerated stride and swinging arms that are a crack addicts trademark.

“Hey! Heyo! Let me ax you somthin!”

Nothing bad happens, but I’m surprised to notice I’m much more wary than I used to be of areas like this. I used to live in places just as bad when I was in Seattle and Washington D.C.. I’ve always felt, if not comfortable, at least capable in bad neighborhoods. But now I’m a little jumpy, a little on edge. I can think of several reasons why this might be. My eyes dart around too fast. It bugs me to see myself acting this way, and it’s also dangerous.

I find a hotel downtown. I have to take a smoking room because all the others are booked. Atlanta’s busy this weekend. Both Black Gay Pride and Dragon Con fill the city, each dressed to the extremes of their respective demographics. In front of me in the hotel lobby is a skinny black man with over-sized sunglasses and a pink belly shirt that reads “ass: the other vagina!”. In front of him is a more literal fairy, with pointy latex ears and strapped on wings. The effect is a bit surreal.

Sarah’s in town this weekend, looking at apartments for her upcoming move from Tallahassee (that’s Sarah with a southern accent, not Sara with rocks in her head.) She comes over to the hotel and we wander the city, ending up at the Hyatt, where a major Dragon Con event has apparently just ended, spilling the Pirates and Obi Wans and Griffindors and Japanese Schoolgirls out onto the sidewalk. It’s people watching on steroids. And LSD.

We spent the weekend exploring the city. I ate soulfood like butterpeas and fried okra and sweet tea. It’s just like regular tea except it makes your teeth hurt.

Last week I was in Tallahassee. I arrived there from Destin by what may be my final hitchhiking trip. I just don’t have the heart for it anymore. The heat was unbearable, the mosquitoes were thirsty, and my patients just wasn’t there anymore. Also – hitching on this side of the country is twice as difficult as it is in the west. Over here it’s more roads, more towns, more congestion. It’s unlikely that anyone traveling a state highway is going more that a few miles, because the towns are so close together. Conversely, if someone picks me up outside Reno going eastbound, there’s a very good chance they’re going all the way to Salt Lake, because there’s absolutely no civilization in between those two cities.

So I don’t know what this means as far as my traveling goes. I’ve been to all the lower 48 states now (except maybe South Carolina, I can’t seem to remember going there) and I feel as if I’ve accomplished what I meant to. I know I could still have fun adventures and see new things if I kept on, but I just feel . . . done. With this country, anyhow.

I’m ready to stay in one spot for awhile. Whether or not I can (or will) remains to be seen.

For now I found someone on couchsurfing.com who’s traveling the country in her car. Tomorrow I’m riding with her to Savannah, afterwards we may or may not travel together for a bit. She’s Australian, so don’t be surprised if the next time you talk to me, I have an Aussie accent. Mates.