I woke up on the morning of Monday 5/15/23 and hit snooze on my alarm a few times before rolling out of my bed at 8 AM. While my last day of work was on May 5th, I had not managed to get much packing done for the trip other than procuring the essentials. I still had to pack up most of my clothing and camping gear. There was no way I was going to get that done before my scheduled rental car pick up at 12:30 PM.
The beauty of traveling alone is that I didn’t need to follow a set schedule. While I would have loved to pick up the rental on time and quickly hit the road, I had until that Friday night to get to LA for the first show of the tour. I was feeling no rush and took my time packing up everything I thought that I needed for the next 4 weeks. I could easily just make small purchases along the way for things that I had forgotten to pack.
Complete freedom was what I had in store. My job was my last semblance of responsibility and that was now in the past. I had skirted all types of responsibility in my mid to late 20s from mortgages, car payments, and plants to pets and a romantic relationship.
The last time I had a significant other was in 2014. After that ended, I avoided putting any effort into finding someone else. I hated the idea of getting caught back up in all the anxiety and stress that relationships can sometimes bring. It’s probably not a healthy mindset for me to have as relationships can bring out the best in people. My abstinence from the dating scene seemed to work for me though. I was proud to circumvent all the silliness that dating apps deliver. Regret would creep in when I received questions from my grandma about why I did not have a significant other, but it was more so regret that I had even started a conversation knowing it would lead there.
I focused on work and school thinking that using my time there would keep me busy and happy. This tended to be the case, but I had now finished my obligations at work and school with little to focus on other than the tour.
By noon, I finished packing and left for the rental car facility at O’Hare airport. I decided to take public transport up to O’Hare from my apartment in the Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago. It took me 3 hours of walking, trains, and shuttles to finally get there. I normally became agitated by such long commutes and delays when using public transit. In this instance, I felt no such anger. I was instead at ease. The burden of work was no longer dragging me down and I felt more patient.
My patience was quickly tested once I made it to the booth of the rental car agency. The attendant was friendly and asked where I planned to travel. I explained that I would be traveling out to California and back. The attendant’s smile turned to an expression of distress. I was shown the rental agreement. In small font at the bottom was a notice that it was not permissible to drive the rental in several states including California. This came as a surprise to me and was the first I had heard of not being able to drive a rental in certain states. I had driven past rentals to Canada and back with no issues.
I knew right then and there that I would never use that agency again. Howard Beale from the movie “Network” took over my mind and I wanted to shout “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore”.
I managed to somehow restrain myself and kept my cool. My newfound ability to stay calm in this moment was an epiphany. I hoped to continue this level of tranquility throughout the trip. I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed for me to react this way. Whatever it was, I just let it be rather than think too much about it.
The rental booth across the way had a vehicle and I was happy to learn that I could drive it in every state. At 4PM, I left the O’Hare airport in a new Nissan Rogue.
Picking up a vehicle the day of with no reservation turns out costing quite a bit more. I ended up paying double what I was expecting, but at least I was on the road.
I drove back to my apartment and quickly packed up the car and headed West. My guidance was inspired by the works of Jack Kerouac, Anthony Bourdain, Keith Richards, Hunter S Thompson, and countless others. (looking at this list, I realize I need to have more female influences in my life). The only book that I packed was the journals of beatnik poet and publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti. I envisioned that Ferlinghetti’s writings would feed me with further inspiration.
It was past 5 PM upon leaving Chicago and I just wanted to get as far West as I could before it got dark. After two and a half hours, I made a pit stop at a gas station in Davenport, Iowa. I booked a hotel off the highway about an hour west in Iowa City.
I became exhausted by the time I reached the hotel given all the packing, time on public transit, and driving. Going forward, I vowed to take it easier and enjoy traveling more for the rest of the trip.
I was starving and the closest place was a Culver’s fast food joint in the connecting parking lot of the hotel. I’m never one to turn down a concrete mixer of frozen custard with Reese’s Cup topping. The food was enjoyable, but I planned to eat healthier once I got into the rhythm of the road.
The hotel was nothing special, though there was a pool and hot tub. I ventured to the hot tub and found a few questionable looking types drinking Bud Lights, but they paid me no bother. The warmth of the water helped relax my back muscles and allowed for a better night’s sleep. I prefer a firm mattress and never seem to sleep well in hotel beds. Not sleeping well became a constant throughout the trip, though I was able to manage through a perpetual intake of caffeine.
I fell asleep before 11 PM, which proved to be a God send given the amount of driving that I had ahead. A new pair of swimming trunks became the first casualty of the tour that night. I left them hanging to dry on the hotel shower rod. My forgetfulness and lack of attention would lead to a few more casualties along the way.
My first day was in the books and I had survived.
A friend reading the blog asked that I create a playlist of Dead Tracks. Below is the Spotify playlist for those interested. It proved to be a difficult endeavor given the 100s of songs and 1000’s of live performances that have been recorded.
