I Made It Home Alive

Got a ride on Craigslist from a really cool dude from Wenatchee. It took us two days to drive from Williston back to Washington. I'd say the journey back from Michigan has been more of a road trip than hitchhiking, it's just a different kind of fun. 

We basically just hit the road running. The first five hours of the drive are so boring you want to die. There's nothing, not even cell phone service. We just hauled ass in an attempt to make it to Glacier National Park before sunset. 

We made it just in time. This view went on as far as the eye could see, north and south. I remember rolling up on the mountains as the sun was going down. There was nothing, then in the distance you can see their silhouette barely outlined. These mountains seriously just pop out of the ground. We hiked to a sweet waterfall just as the light was fading. The water shoots out from under this rock. It was pretty unreal. 

The next day we spent more time being tourists and visiting the nature spots along the drive to Washington. It was a welcomed break from all the time I've spent in cities this summer. We saw the largest undammed waterfall in the state.

We also saw the redwoods of Montana. I mean, they weren't redwoods, but they were super big cedar trees! So big that they started to phase out of reality at the top. They reached the top of existance. It was pretty hard to capture in a photo. 

I made it to Ellensburg and spent some time with my friends. It was pretty great seeing people that I had met before. That was something I had taken for granted, knowing people. 

Then I had to hitchhike back to my parents house to get my car. This meant I would no longer be living out of my backpack. After traveling across US I finally got picked up by some hippies in Naches! They were in a Volkswagon bus and were so nice. Check out this dudes shirt. 

They drove me all the way to my parents house. So take that America, I made it back alive. I've proven you all wrong. The world is full of nice people. All you have to do is open yourself up to a little help. I think we live lives that are a little too radically self sufficient. I think we should lean on each other a little more. 

Stay tuned for the adventures of Madd Dog and Sparky as they travel down the Columbia River in the 16 foot canoe named The Barkin' Dog. It will be an adventure of extreme peril, exploration, romance, and tragedy. 

Three Days With Jesse Pinkman

I made it to Kalamazoo and stayed with my aunt to clean up and get situated. The next day I got a ride with a character who said he was headed to North Dakota. 

He asked me if I would mind if he hustled up some gas along the way. He had a "Need gas, please help" sign. I said, "Man, I got a banjo. Let's hustle." 

This guy talks a lot too, so I got to know him pretty quick. He was from Alaska and came down south to get away from the drugs. This dude was selling meth and heroine, making like 50-60 felony drug deals a day. He's been convicted of 3 felonys and been to jail 21 times. He was headed back to North Dakota to pick up his girlfriend after she got out of jail. 

This might sound pretty sketchy but he was a pretty honest dude. He was gonna split all the money he made from his gas hustle with me. He was sleeping in his car. I slept in my sleeping bag outside and he gave me the keys so I wouldn't worry about him driving off. He was a good guy, just into some heavy stuff. 

He had some crazy stories too. I felt so tame around this guy. He told me about one time when he was tweakin' and saw a car parked in a field with the dome light flashing. He walked up and it was a dash mounted laptop with satanic symbols as a screen saver. Then he hears this screaming coming from the woods and goes to check it out. He stood for a bit waiting to hear the screams again and hears someone say, "Is that guy really just gonna stand there?" And he just booked it. He was a hundred miles away before he mentioned it to anyone. He told a sheriff in training at the bar and the guy just tells him to keep his mouth shut. 

We made it to this tiny little town in North Dakota and tried to find some beer. The only place you can buy a six pack is at the bar. Some guys there wanted us to stick around and play some pool, but we couldn't drink the beers in the bar so the bartender told us to drink them in the parking lot and come back in. (No joke.) Turns out these guys are the drunken city councilmen of Tower City, North Dakota (or as the locals call it Cower Tity). You just can't write this stuff. 

I'll take another pause in the narrative for some other crazy meth-head stories. Without boring you with the story of being shot at by sound wave guns, or running the judge of Winlock, WA off the road, or even the most legitimate story of demonic possession I've ever heard, I'll tell you about the time he got sold bath salts instead of meth. 

This dude was so high, he was walking down the middle of the street in Portland, razor blade in one hand and a can of mace in the other. This street also happened to be a bridge, and he was stopping traffic convinced there were at least 30 people trying to kill him. The cops just told him to run along. Some how he gets in and out of jail a few times before coming down off whatever it was he took. He was riding the bus and saw some kid with his headphones in. Of course headphones mean you're FBI and are trying to kill him. So he's yelling at this kid on the bus and threatening to kill him etc... I guess it was like three days before that whole ordeal was over. Don't do drugs kids. 

We stopped at a little lake to do laundry, tried to steal some corn from a farmers field, and even pulled over to watch the sunset one night. You never know who you run into on the road. And you never know how cool people can be if you don't give them a chance. 

Thanks for the ride man. I hope you treat your girl right, and settle down. Stay off that dope homie. 

Crownival: Three Days of Debauchery

I packed up all my stuff and said goodbye to Zeus (the dog), and walked out to the bus stop. I was headed to Crownival in hopes of catching a ride out of town (and also destroying my liver and being punk as shit). Detroit buses are terrible. The first one didn't come, the second one was late, and my transfer was totally full. They don't even tell you what stop is next. It's insanity. I found my way to Crow Manor after about 3 hours. 

I made a new friend who said she hadn't eaten anything. So I walked with her to the Coney down the street. We ran into some random guy and ask him if we're going the right way. The dude had apparently taken ten pills earlier and was a little out of it. We took him under our wing and bought him some dinner. We met another lady at the Coney who overheard our "don't take so many pills, man" conversation and asked us if we had any heron. She missed the meal at the shelter so we gave her a salad instead of drugs. We ended up having a nice family dinner at the Coney with some new friends. The rest of Friday was drinking and some killer bands until 4am. 

Saturday morning was rough for obviousl reasons. But after some coffee, everyone picked up where they left off last night. We spent most of the morning playing some good ol' crusty country music. Everyone there played a mean banjo. It was like a dream come true. 

The day's events consisted of a fiercely competitive female arm wrestling tournament (which never got finished), a pizza-on-a-string eating contest, and a no talent show. 

The no talent show was great. Some music, some poetry, reciting of Shakespeare, and about 745 terrible jokes. 

Somewhere in there Ihateyou the clown showed up. He popped out of a giant jack in the box and started spraying silly string and hurling water balloons. He also bought some frozen yogurt from the ice cream man, got pied, and chased a jogger down the street. 

The jogger actually ended up coming back, twice, and brought friends the second time. 

An actual bluegrass band played, and a thunderstorm started brewing. It was perfect timing. The metal band Sweat was setting up as the wind started to pick up and the sky got darker. They literally turned the sky black and played to the sound of thunder. It was probably the most metal thing that ever happened.

 

But everyone's favorite part is when the Detroit Party Marching Band shows up. They tore the place down. Everyone was dancing and moshing during their whole set. Most marching bands march when they play, these guys mosh. The most punk rock part of the weekend was when the cops showed up right after the marching band was done. We kept asking for one more song, after one encore already, and they weren't having it. Then as soon as the cops roll around the corner, they decided they had time to play one more. I can only imagine what it would have been like to roll up to that police call. 

There were beatboxing rap battles, people tracking their friends with yarn, alley bowling, and people playing with fire. I'm pretty sure I went to bed around 6am. 

I tried to get a ride out of town Sunday and almost took the bus. I'm pretty sure I left about 4 times without ever getting off the property. Someone offered me a ride the next morning so we spent the day drinking off our hangovers and playing our gypsy banjo/violin/accordion music. 

I don't think words can really do any justice to what happened this weekend. I'm only writing what I can remember. A big thanks goes out to the Crow Manor crew and all their awesome friends. I'll be back next year for sure.