Passing (out in) America: Part One (Introductions)

Authors Note:

The following going to be a series of essays written about a three month long road trip I took with three of my best friends. All events are as true as I remember them being, and all places are as real as you or I. I am sharing these stories with you in the hopes that you can go on your own personal adventure, and experience similar discoveries, inside and out. Please, read and enjoy.


I woke up groggy and hungover on a Friday morning, not too atypical I suppose. It was surprisingly warm and sunny for it being January 13th in Detroit, Michigan. When you grow up in Midwest you can just tell those sorts things from the way the sunlight looks as it passes through your window. Or, it could be because I had faulty sills, and there was no freezing cold bursts of air puffing in my face, like there were most mornings. The smell of my pillowcase reminisced of a fun night, you know, the kind of night where there is a free gallon of whiskey on the bar with your name on it. (If you ever make it to Detroit, go to ‘The Well' on Gratiot and Broadway, see Ray, he's a good man, with a heavy wrist.) I stayed in bed for what seemed like days waiting for my headache to subside, but it chose not to. I was left no choice but to kill my annoyance over the counter medication.

It was nine thirty in the morning by the time I shed my cotton cocoon and looked at my empty suitcase on the floor. I have always, and no doubt will always, put everything off until the last possible second call it a curse, but one man's curse is another man's blessing, right? Head throbbing, I struggled to the shower and let the warm water wash away all the sins I had committed the night before. Only God knows how many more I would soon partake in on my grand adventure. January 13th was the first day of the rest of my life.

As I stumbled out of the tub, I mimicked my dog and shuck my hair as dry as I could get it. With a quick brush and floss (my dentist is so proud of me), and a fresh pair of underroos, I was ready to speed pack. I had hopefully fifteen minutes before departure. Nine t-shirts, six pairs of jeans, one pair of black pants, one button down shirt, two ties, a sweater, a hoodie, a track jacket, one work uniform, ten pairs of underwear, and ten pairs of socks. If only I could run a mile that fast. Four minutes. Flat. I threw my computer, cell phone charger, iPod, and Polaroid in a backpack and I was ready for the road. Oh, the importance of living light. I just probably listed ninety percent of my worldly possessions, and that is perfectly okay with me.

I couldn't eat. I was too excited. I poured a giant glass of orange juice and threw a Rice Krispie's Treat in my pocket for later. Talk about the breakfast of champions. Eleven anxious minutes passed before I heard the rumble of Detroit craftsmanship in my driveway. A 2006 Chevy Trailblazer was about to become my new home. I ran out the door and tried to stuff my luggage in the back of the truck. This proved to be harder than I thought. With three other peoples bags, a guitar, some sleeping bags, and a couple skateboards, you run out of room pretty fast. I adjusted, and readjusted our belongings until they resembled a small scale, well-packed semi trailer. I'd venture to say that "as long as you can see out of the rear view mirror, you'll be fine" became the unofficial phrase of the trip. I jumped in the backseat, behind the driver, gave my hellos, and admired an entire dashboard full of sunglasses. The car already smelt like a dirty sock was used to clean out an ashtray. I loved it.

You can read the rest of Passing (out in) America: Part One (Introductions) on my personal blog at www.allvoices.com/users/detroitish

you can also follow my travels on twitter at www.twitter.com/detroitish

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