4/20: A D.C. Birthday

I slept much later than I would have liked, considering it was our last day with Trent, and that he had made arrangements to have lunch with his parents, sister, and nephew before driving us into DC. Trent's dad had worked with he and Chris on a film some years back, and wanted to be sure to see him before we left.


For whatever reason, we just couldn't get going and finally left at around 1. We made a stop at the post office, where I mailed now- "extra" shirts home, and arrived at Trent's folk's house much later than intended. I felt shitty about that. They had already eaten by then, plus our foot- dragging had thrown Trent's schedule off; he'd now have to rush to get back from DC to pick his daughter, Cassidy, up from school.

His parents live in a gorgeous house in the country that he, of course, had built himself. We had a quick lunch, then they listened as Chris recounted his stories of his cross- country walk. I added a few things from last year where I could. Trent's mom and dad seemed like wonderful, enjoyable people and it reminded me a bit of what I'd missed growing up without a full family. I wish we could have spent some more time there.



We left for DC close to 2:30, and were soon jumping out of the Audi near DuPont circle, just a few streets away from P Street, where Karessa had lived during my time in DC. It struck me how neat it was to be back here, in a backpack, 14- years later. I also imagined the degree to which I would have been pissing myself if someone had placed me in this very situation in 1995! "I'm hip about time man, but I just got to go." Name the movie, win a prize....

Bill & Laura's place was close by, so we strapped on the packs in the drizzle, then into our haven: a coffee shop. We loaded up on the bottomless cup, and I updated again while enjoying the mental exercise of recounting the events of the last few days. Not a lot had "happened", but the couple days at Trent's were incredibly cool.



I held no expectations for this next stop, as I knew next to nothing about Bill & Laura, other than he was a "conservative" who had been elected as Neighborhood Commissioner. I also knew that he was heavily involved in African- aid, traveling there many times. This last fact appealed to me; I have a growing urge to go to Africa. This was rekindled a bit while at the coffee shop, as I chatted up a canvasser for Care.org. I refuse to get involved with the Red Cross, due to my first- hand experience after Katrina, and wont take part in any of these $10,000 "adventure trips" sold to college kids under the guise of "charity". In a nutshell, I find it best to avoid ANY organization who ONLY wants your money. I'm sure I'll elaborate sometime, but my hope was to pick Bill's brain a bit about getting involved, on a grassroots level, IN Africa while avoiding the money- whores on this end. Good luck with that, Todd.

We arrived at their house and, despite Chris's description, I was stunned to discover that they owned the entire building, which is more like a museum. There are three levels, all theirs, and decorated beautifully. This may have been the swankiest house I have ever been inside as a guest!

Bill & Laura were a surprise in and of themselves; much younger than I had pictured! I had always imagined them in their 50's, but they seemed close to my age, if not younger. It never occurred to me to ask. Both of them were very welcoming, and again, none of the third- wheel stuff.

We discovered a common love: South Park and commenced to watching the John Edward episode after Chris tried, in futility, to explain the metaphysical quest. To his defense, this isn't a conversation you can just "have" with anyone. Most will either just "get it" or won't. Trying to logically explain it to those without common experiences is extremely difficult, because you're central character doesn't die on a cross.

Speaking of Messiah Complex, Chris turned 33 today which, as he felt compelled to remind all who listened, was the age Jesus supposedly died. After South Park, Bill & Laura took us out for burgers to celebrate Chris's crucifixion age and we had another really neat conversation. Not nearly as intense as the one at Trent's, but taken from another angle. Bill has an obviously brilliant, analytical, scientific mind. Just the sort that is a challenge to religious, spiritual, or mystical people. He asks great questions and challenges you to answer them, without being condescending. He's genuinely curious about where you're coming from... even though you're not going to convince him! This was just the exercise I needed, after having conversations almost exclusively with those who agree for so long. Masturbation's great... but now and then it's fun to have to work for it! In the end, it seemed that we were much more aligned socially and politically than I would would have thought, while eventually agreeing that the search for "answers" is just as important as finding them, because you learn much about yourself and others in the process. I also got a hearty laugh when I realized that I had stayed both at an anarchist commune in Oklahoma City, and in the home of a D.C.elected official... in the span of a week. Another very interesting evening, to say the least.

After another couple of religion- mocking episodes of South Park, we tried unsuccessfully to upload pictures again and got to bed at a decent hour. The original "plan" (ha!) was to stay in DC thru Wednesday, but that spontaneously changed, as we would be in the way of their open- house on Tuesday. We decided it would be best to find a route over the Chesapeake Bay and finally get into the backpacks...

4/19: Annapolis, MD

Waking up between noon and 1, Sunday started on the verge of Hell. I honestly wondered for the first hour if I'd be able to function at all because of the grape- induced hangover! Thankfully, after some water, coffee, and a few bites to eat, I felt a whole lot better.

Trent needed to go to a fundraiser in Annapolis for Meagan's ballet company, so Chris and I were off to wander the tourist- trap for a few hours. He had described it as a town with "nothing practical", unless you're a tourist. That was proven to be the case, but since Chris and I WERE pseudo- tourists, it served its purpose. Being the home of the Naval Academy, there were lots of soon- to- be- sailors walking about, looking proud in their officer- candidate dress whites. I had to chuckle at the memories of my Navy days; I know that look of brainwashed pride quite well!

The weather we had been ahead of all the way across country finally caught up, so it was a chilly, damp day, and I obviously didn't feel like walking much, so after a quick trip to the bay and a hello to Trent's friend we stopped off for lunch at a neat little 50's style diner, then found a coffee shop where Chris wrote, I updated, and the co- ed across from us was busy reading, and looking good.

Trent picked us up at around 9, and it was back to Chesapeake Beach where we watched a bit of Century of the Self after a viewing of the documentary Trent had made of the southern- state road trip with his daughter, Cassidy, last year. It was damn good; something I would definitely watch if I happened across it on the Travel Channel.

Chris and I struggled to learn the process of copying and uploading pics on a Mac, until we'd had enough and got to bed about 3am... much later than I would have guessed when I woke up!

4/18: Chesapeake Beach, MD

There were encouraging indications as to how Trent & I would click soon after we got into the car and headed east from DC into E. Maryland. It was apparent that he felt strongly about things, and one of the things I admire most is authentic, thought- out passion. I knew all was good once he made an almost sheepish comment about getting on his "soap box", and sharing his thoughts on the death of the American city, how people have isolated themselves in their boxes... inside their gated communities. I had to laugh to myself remembering Kim commenting on my tendency to rant, and it seemed I was going to greatly enjoy our quick stay at Trent's.

He called his girlfriend, Meagan, and arranged for her to meet us at his place in Chesapeake Beach. Meagan is fascinating in her right; an exquisite ballet dancer who wasn't intimidated by the conversation... although I doubt she agreed with much of it!

His house was built by he and his father, and is very, very, cool! It's a tri-level, east coast style (tall, skinny... is that a style?) that's maybe a half- mile from Chesapeake Bay. There was no television, which I found remarkable (and admirable) considering he has a 14-yr. old daughter, that he and Chris had met in film school... and was still active in shooting and video editing. I quickly wondered if he too had ever called himself a whore, as I had during my radio days. I never listened to the radio after that realization, even while grunting thru it...poorly.

Trent and Meagan set about making cheeseburgers and pouring wine as we all gathered around the coffee table and began chatting. I was struck by how inquisitive he was, asking good questions, with multiple follow- ups about the trip and the reasons/ methods behind it. He was sincerely interested, not simply in the typical anecdotal "this one time at band camp" stuff which is fine for most, but also the philosophy behind it. It was the kind of conversation that once it got going, was like a steam roller. The kind that I live for! Since he's involved in film, he had a digital video camera handy, so he and Meagan proceeded to interview us. The creative vibe was nearly as intoxicating as the wine. (not quite- as I would brutally realize in the morning) A very cool night indeed; I surely wasn't feeling like the third wheel as I had assumed I would.

In that sense, everything had so far exceeded expectations for me. I still believe it comes from the realization Chris and I came to in Albuquerque the night my car died; that things seemed to lie out perfectly once we took the attitude that we are simple side- car passengers both taking part in AND, more importantly, observing this "dramedy" of our own lives. That sense of surrender and acceptance can be a powerfully liberating thing.

Four bottles of wine, and seven hours later, we were out of wine and long since had stopped having structure to our little debateathon. And I was hammered. I don't recall the last time I had actually lost coordination; I am usually more agile than when I'm sober, but when I bounced my head off the door frame, I knew it was long past time for bed! Meagan had probably sensed where the night was headed, going to bed early, leaving we boys to play in our sandbox. I had a great time, but I'd pay for it Sunday!