Sunday, January 13, 2002
Tuesday morning, Anna will pick me up.
Me and my backpack. Anna's this girl who's driving to Washington D.C. I found her on Craig's List, and met her a few days ago. She's actually on her way to Central America, but is stopping by the east coast to visit her friends and family first. So we're going try to drive across the country in three days.
This was the result of my long and overly dramatic pursuit of the answer to this question: How should I go to Boston? Every time I made up an answer that sounded interesting to me, everyone would tell me "No, you'll die." On a motorcycle, hitch-hiking, car-jacking, stowing away in somebody's luggage -- none of them were safe enough.
I desperately wanted to avoid flying. I'm not sure why it was so important to me, other than that flying is too easy. Too reliable (except for the occasional world trade center goofs). Not enough opportunities for learning, or for experiencing the humanity of other people. And it's too fast. My body and mind weren't designed for teleportation, for traveling large distances so rapidly. The air is different, the people are different, the angle of the sun is different. It takes time to catch up. Going over land connects me with the experience of traveling, the distance.