Well, folks... Although I know many of you were waiting with baited breath for more stories from the road, the realities of finding internet access around the country proved far more challenging than I initially hoped they would be. So, here I sit in Brandon again, intent upon returning home tomorrow. So, what happened to my lost week or two? "let me splain... No, is too much... Let me sum up."
I had a great time.
Okay, maybe brevity isn't the best way to go here :)
I spent about a week in NYC catching up with my Dad and Mom, and assorted other friends. With Dad, this involved massive amounts of sitting around on the couch and watching TV. With Mom, a dinner or two. It was the first trip to NY I've taken since I moved to New Orleans that I didn't once go into Manhattan, and spent all my time on good old Staten Island.
Having said that, S.I. is no longer the place I grew up in. The differences are subtle but alarming... A new house or two here, an increase in traffic there, a shopping center in some woods I was too chicken to go into as a kid. Ahhh... The price of progress, I guess.
I had left Brandon feeling... Well, for lack of a better term, "Rudderless". I realized as I headed up I-95 bound for New England, that even before Katrina, my life lacked any serious direction. This feeling really galvanized itself to me on the trip up there. I talked about this a little with Dad before I left NY, and his answer was remarkably un-Dad like: "All of us lack direction, Robbie..." He said to me, "No one ever really knows where life will take them... But sometimes, that's just how life works. Sure, you can plan, and dream, and prepare yourself to take advantage of things, but bottom line is you don't know where you'll end up." He backed up this statement with a few choice examples from his life I won't go into here.
Normally, Pop would have been a wise ass and handed me a compass and a map. The apple falls not far from the tree I guess.
Anyway, I left NYC headed toward Cape Cod in something of a fog, both literally and spiritually. I began to think about all the advice people have given me over the years and what Dad had said as I made my way up the Connecticuit coast, and to Mystic, CN. Mystic is a beautiful old New England town, rich with history, culture, and charm. I looked around for a bit, and even did a little job hunting. Unfortunately, everywhere I went I received the same reply: "Sorry, we're not hiring now, come back when our season starts up again." I spent the night at a really nice hotel with a nearby Indian casino. The casinos don't have an off season, but even lacking direction I knew that I don't want to work in a casino.
So where did this leave me? Bored, alone, and with a full tank of gas in the car. Cape Cod was not far... But part of me wondered exactly what the point would be in continuing my journey. Had I already found the answers I had been seeking? Were they just not what I hoped? Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of the trip to find out, readers.
By the numbers:
Lowest price for gas: $2.21 per gallon
Stupid place name: Pickle's Knob
Realization: The native Americans have quite the racket going with them casinos.
1 comment:
"With Dad, this involved massive amounts of sitting around on the couch and watching TV" Sport? :)
The males in my family are addicted to it(...on TV)
Best of luck finding a job.
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