I woke up in a parking lot speckled with palm trees. I wanted to hit the gas, but thought it prudent to stock up on certain supplies. This will be the last Wal-Mart I see for a month. Certain commodities ought to be getting got.
Wine is $2.96. There is nothing wrong with it. It even has a cork. I haven't had booze in a couple days, but I'm not totaling any tea. I got four bottles, and some gas for my stove. I got some buttwipes for the upcoming public restrooms, but left their nasty avocados alone.
South Florida is a fucking shitshow. The weather is beautiful, but I despise that drive. I got as close as ever to road rage, and had several what-the-fucking-fucks.
I wanted to be in Key West in time to ride my bicycle in the sun. Unfortunately there were as many fatal accidents as lanes. I crawled peacefully along in no hurry. I merged slowly and listened to podcasts. I blared old skate punk and rolled down the road.
By the time I arrived, darkness had fallen. I went to my go-to-always-works spot and parallel parked between two other crusty Dodge vans. I clicked off the engine, and felt terribly alone.
The air was a frigid 65 degrees with high winds. Weather I would have killed for a few days ago. My chest filled with anxiety, so I texted everyone I know. Feeling lonely and anxious is not scary. It is not without precedent. It is to be expected, which I already know.
I went under the front curtain, and entered the section of the van that is home. I pulled the cork out of a bottle Oak Leaf, and got to work with my phone. I texted Rochelle in Philadelphia - the more recent one who I know. I chatted with Lisa in Georgia, who I met on the Appalachian Trail. I texted Dave, and I heard from my sister and Mom. I do have some people. I wish one of them were here.
An hour later, everything was better. I had some wine and some weed and enjoyed an excellent movie. I have a fantastic van with everything I need.