Leaving Columbus

Last Friday I wanted to hit the road at 2:00, but I didn't leave until 4:30. Before I left, I thought I was going to walk to the truck stops near London, but since there was a Buckeye game the next day I ended up heading toward Ohio Stadium.

Walking up Norton Road, which has no shoulder and a steep slope off to the side, five miles closer to Columbus I rolled my ankle and ate gravel for the first time since December 2006. My spill may have something to do with the fact that I walk in hiking sandals now, instead of boots with plenty of ankle support. I don't know, but I probably said "God dammit!" shortly after tasting earth.

Half an hour later, only 20 feet from the end of the bad part of Norton Road, I rolled my ankle yet again and hit my head in the gravel on the side of the road. It felt like I dislocated the ankle this time, but I don't think that happened because I didn't hear a pop and the ankle was not horribly swollen. When you fall down while carrying a huge backpack, you end up on your back like a turtle on its shell, unable to get up until you unclip all the straps that keep the pack attached to you. It's probably a pretty funny sight, but it's not fun.

After about 11 miles, a dude name Jim stopped on West Broad Street and gave me a ride the last seven or eight miles to Ohio Stadium. That was cool because it was pretty late and I would've had to walk most of that distance in the morning. Instead, I camped out next to the regular site of Kropkogate.

Saturday was wet. During a break in the rain, as I sat outside the west side of Ohio Stadium, my friend Tara saw me as she walked by with her sister, who was there to sign (not sing) the national anthem. I ended up talking to Tara for probably almost an hour.

Until about March of this year, I hadn't seen Tara since high school. She and I "went together" for about a week just before our freshman year of high school. Even though we've only seen each other twice now after all this time, I feel really close to Tara. She is a special friend to me, and I feel like a special friend to her. (Don't even think about it; she's married and has two kids.) Boy was I stupid for not trying to keep her. Also, I wish I had thought to take a picture of her or us to post here.

After Tara went into the stadium, I walked back to Kropkogate. It rained lightly, and it looked like the weather might be all right until the game started. Then it just poured for the whole first half. Fortunately I had shelter at Kropkogate, but most of the people in the stadium must have been miserable. Regardless, the Buckeyes won 30-0.

Sunday when I got up, I thought I might head for the truck stops, but then I decided I'd walk toward Yellow Springs instead. Walking south on Riverside drive, I rolled my ankle again. This time I didn't fall. Nevertheless, I decided to take a short break because the near-fall caused my ankle to become yet a little more damaged than the first two spills (as if the fall that tore my ligament three years ago wasn't already enough to deal with).

I guess you could say my left knee and ankle are totally fucked up right now, and they probably will be forever.

I made it to West Jefferson late Sunday night, but on the way, as you may already have read, I was nearly hit by a car as I walked north on Amity Road, toward Dellinger. I've had a lot of close calls with cars before, but this one left me nearly in tears because as the car approached me, I literally wasn't sure if I'd be alive five seconds later.

The next night I made it to South Charleston, then last night I arrived in Yellow Springs. I've had lots of crappy weather and wind to deal with, so I feel pretty good about walking almost 60 miles in three days.

I might try to make it to Bloomington, Indiana in the next couple days. This much is sure: It's time to get the hell out of the midwest. Summer is over and winter is coming.

There's probably more interesting shit to say, but I can barely type on this thing, especially with several of the keys out of order. Don't expect many more blog posts because this is just too much trouble.

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Some stupid motherfucker just missed

Some stupid motherfucker just missed running me over by literally a few inches, even with my flashing headlamp that everyone else sees just fine.

Trying to leave

I intended to walk outta here over an hour ago, but after realizing a few keys don't work on my tiny Asus netbook-type thing, I've been trying to fix it, with no luck. It's the 7,8,0, and Delete keys; maybe a couple others as well. The main reason I'm taking it with me is to use a spreadsheet to keep track of my walking mileage, but I won't be able to do that very well without functional number keys.

Add that to the fact that I have no eyeglasses and you may understand why I'm very frustrated right now. Why do I put myself through this shit?

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Missed opportunity

When I just checked my voice mail, I was surprised to hear a message from Clay Hall, the sports guy on WSYX channel 6 (Columbus). I talked to him for a while the night before the USC/OSU game two weeks ago, and I guess he called me the day of the game, saying maybe we could do an interview. Unfortunately I never even knew he had called me, so that's a bit of a bummer.

Now that I've hung around Clay and Jerod Smalley (from channel 4) quite a bit, I have tons of respect for what they do. They really bust ass, and they always have to be sharp and attentive, especially when they're doing live reports.

Well, after a short break, it's time to hit the road again.

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Walk, Forrest!

Right now all I want to do is begin that coast-to-coast walk I've been thinking about. I just want to be alone for real for a while, instead of being alone with everyone. Unfortunately it's the wrong time of year to begin such a journey, regardless of where I start. For example, if I was to start from LA right now, I'd be in mountains and high elevations in late fall or early winter. But if I was to start from New York right now, I'd be in northern latitudes for a few months (where it's gonna get cold soon), then I'll hit the mountains and high elevations in late winter. Either way it doesn't work.

In all likelihood, I'll start from the Santa Monica Pier in January or February. That'll put me in the desert at the best possible time of year, then it will put me at the higher elevations in spring. After that it's all downhill (for 2,000 miles).

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Dead end

It just occurred to me why Aimless will never become a TV series: No network or production company is going to invest in a show that likely cannot last more than a couple seasons.

Am I willing to do this for another five or ten years? I doubt it. And networks already know it.

So there you have it; the Aimless guy admits his brilliant idea is worthless. Or is it?

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Break time

I walked 20 miles "home" from Ohio Stadium last Sunday, and I'll be staying here until about next Friday, only because my parents will be gone for the next week.

When I leave again to who-knows-where, I'm not going to take this laptop with me because it's getting beat up and it's awkward to carry. Although it's nice to have with me on the road, I simply cannot use it enough to justify keeping it with me. Instead, I'm going to take the tiny netbook I had with me last year (even though it's not very useful). Since I can easily fit the netbook in my pack, I'll no longer need to carry a large laptop case, which has performed double duty as a camera bag for the last two months.

I can handle the laptop's weight just fine, especially when I keep it in my backpack instead of inside the carrying case. But keeping it in my backpack is what's beating it up so much. However, when I carry it in its case, along with my camcorder, tapes, and other stuff, the case ends up weighing about 13 pounds. This 13-pound case then dangles from my fingers and swings with my arm as I walk, creating a very awkward weight distribution that throws off my balance and makes every step a chore. Fortunately, now that I'll be carrying the netbook inside my pack as well as trading the computer case for a much lighter camera bag, I won't have to waste so much effort when I walk. (But I won't have a very useful computer, either.)

* * *
It appears as if I'm not going to hear from Ashley, the girl I met at a tailgate party near Ohio Stadium last week. I'm disappointed because she initiated our groovy chat, using my backpack as a conversation starter as I sat on the pack, tired from a long day of carrying it around outside the stadium. I felt like our conversation really could have led somewhere. Friendship? Definitely. Courtship? Possibly. Maybe she just forgot the word I told her to google ('Aimless'). Guess I'll never know.

* * *
After writing this, I realized I've already said this in another post, but yes, I did make it on TV last week in a sequel to last year's interview with Jerod Smalley of WCMH channel 4. Actually I was on TV twice last weekend. The first appearance was live on the news Friday evening and the other part was recorded for the game special that aired Saturday evening. It looks like I'm never going to see either part, though, because no one at "home" recorded them (or even watched them).

* * *
Now that I've had the opportunity to watch a little TV for the first time in a while, I've mostly opted not to watch it. Whenever I flip through the 8,000 listings on the on-screen channel guide, looking for something remotely interesting, I find nothing. And it just leaves me scratching my head, wondering why there isn't a crew out there following me, meeting the people I meet and seeing the things I see.

* * *
I apparently have no eyeglasses anymore, which is freaking wonderful. And no, I didn't lose them, nor did I break them. (It's a long story that I don't feel like telling here.) It would be pretty cool if I could somehow end up with some new glasses because it helps to see when you're out looking for something.

So I guess the unintended message of this post is that almost everything still seems not to be going my way. I'm not complaining, though; just telling you what's up and what's on my mind. I'm not necessarily even unhappy about this kind of stuff anymore because I'm so used to it.

If only you knew the whole story.

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Ashley & Kropkogate

I met Ashley at Kropkogate last Saturday. I met Kropkogate (Scott Kropko) at USC last year. Ashley, if you've found your way to this blog, I want you to know I really enjoyed talking to you. You felt like a friend to me, and I like that feeling. Call me so we can pick up where we left off.

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Bittersweet

Well, the Buckeyes managed to lose yet another big game they should have won. During the game, I spent a couple hours talking to a very sweet girl named Ashley. She had to leave without much notice from her friends, so we were unable to exchange numbers or e-mail. As she left, though, I told her to google 'Aimless.' So Ashley, if you see this, I'd really like to talk to you again. 614-738-3867. I'll be looking forward to hearing from you soon.

I was just interviewed by

I was just interviewed by WCMH channel 4 again, outside Ohio Stadium. Think I was already on the news (live), but will be on game special, too.

Time to go

OK dude, it's time for you to wake up and leave. I'm trying to get a ride, and you're making it very difficult for me by illegally occupying all the ramp space and confusing the drivers who might otherwise stop to offer me a ride. It's well after 11:00 and you've been here long enough (at least three hours). There are five large truck stops in the area, so you have no excuse for this thoughtless act of laziness. Now get your ass up and go because there's a big football game coming up this weekend and I want to make it to Columbus by Friday (from Dandridge, Tennessee) so I might be interviewed by TV crews again. Go Bucks!

Rain and Roldan

Long story short...

While thousands and thousands of people drove on by during my time of need, as a miserable downpour created new rivers eight days ago in Atlanta, only Roldan Smith stopped to give me a hand. With the relentlessly cold rain bringing me ever so close to tears, Roldan got me out of the rain and took me to Stone Mountain, where his family was celebrating his dad and brother's birthdays.

Roldan, his immediate family, and his brother's in-laws welcomed me to their family gathering as if I actually belonged there. They fed me well and left me with food to go. I told them some of my stories and they told me some of theirs. It was one of those magical days in which misery leads directly to joy and all-around good stuff.

I could have made this story more than a few pages long, and I will. Read about it when my book gets published.

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Citation

So here's a citation I received from a DeKalb County Police officer (just outside Atlanta) a few days ago.

 

Oh boy, where do I start?

OK, first of all, I wasn't doing anything. I wasn't flying a sign for a ride, nor was I flying a sign for money, nor was I displaying my thumb to passersby. All I was doing was sitting on a guardrail near an on-ramp (I-85 northbound exit from US 23) with my backpack on my back (about 20 feet from a bus stop).

Like always, most of the on-duty cops drove right by me, not at all worried about the harmless, clean traveler who just wanted to make his way up the road. But one cop, seizing an opportunity to make a huge positive impact, stopped to hassle me.

After asking me what I was doing there, the cop told me I wasn't allowed to be there and I wasn't allowed to solicit. Cool enough; I'm used to being told to leave spots like that. But as I prepared to leave my spot, I wanted to make sure she knew I was not doing everything she implied I was doing. I told her, "I understand if you're going to tell me to leave, but I'm not soliciting."

She didn't like that.

"Yes, you are soliciting. You already told me you're trying to get a ride."

"No, I'm hoping to get a ride. If I was soliciting, I'd be holding up my thumb or a sign, or I'd be talking to people. But I'm not doing that; I'm just sitting here, and sitting here is not soliciting."

After a few rounds of disputing my claim, with me maintaining my stance, she got pretty pissed, I guess because some people just know they're right about everything, even when they are 100 percent wrong. (Or, most likely, it was a case of "You must respect my authoritah!)

Steaming, she turned around and stomped back to her cruiser. Sitting in the driver's seat, she kicked the inside of the door a few times to make it spring back and close. (I guess it's too difficult for some people to just pull the door shut.) Inside the car, she wrote up the citation. After giving me the citation, she continued throwing her fit, then sped off, simply because I dared challenge her authoritah.

And that's the only reason why she wrote up the ticket. It wasn't about me breaking the law (because I wasn't breaking ANY laws); it was about her authoritah and her fragile ego. She's one of those people who just wants to go out an bust people she deems unworthy of sharing this planet with her. And instead of taking the time to learn from someone who knows her job responsibilities better than she does, she felt compelled to show me who's boss by writing a bullshit ticket for something that never happened.

To support my point here, I've included a picture of the citation in this post. If you are able to zoom in close enough on the picture, you might take notice of my alleged offense: "Solicitation in Right Away." I guess that is similar to "Solicitation in right-of-way," but I think it's probably just the gibberish of an ignorant, power-mad cop who doesn't know how to do her job.

Although I'm supposed to be back in DeKalb County for court on October 27, I will not be there unless I just happen to be near Atlanta at the time. Instead, I plan to write a letter to the court, in an attempt to get this bullshit citation thrown out.

Here's one of my main arguments for having the citation thrown out: Since the officer doesn't even know the name of the law I allegedly broke, doesn't it kinda make sense that maybe she also doesn't know what the law means? There is a huge difference between the meanings of "right-of-way" and "right away." If the officer doesn't know the difference, there's a good chance she also doesn't know how to do her job.

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In the United States of America, when accused of committing any crime, the law says you are innocent until proven guilty. It's not "innocent until proven guilty (unless you don't show up for court when there is no evidence showing you did anything illegal)."

If I was doing anything illegal (however petty and victimless), I was loitering, not soliciting. But the police officer did not write me a citation for loitering; she wrote a citation for soliciting, which I simply was not doing. It's this simple: Hoping to get a ride is not solicitation, nor is it in any way illegal, even when you admit you were hoping to get a ride.

I'm not going to pay a fine for something I didn't do, even if the court refuses to throw out the citation. Living in a free country means not having to prove your innocence when bad cops make up new rules and cite you for breaking laws you didn't break. But we don't live in a free country anymore, and killing thousands and thousands of mostly-harmless brown people is not going to change that.

As Americans, our freedom is not threatened by foreigners. Our freedom is threatened by our own government and our complacency. You can keep letting them take away your freedom if you want, but I'm out here fighting for it, even if you can't figure out what I mean by that.

What puzzles me most about this episode is that the cop was a black woman. Why does that puzzle me? Partly because I usually get along very well with black women. Also, I would expect her, like most black Americans, to have a very strong sense of empathy for the little guy (or the underdog or the poor). But she was just a powermad bitch who's probably going to end up finding out the hard way that her badge doesn't mean shit.

If you're lucky, maybe I'll write about some of the other stuff that's happened recently. I probably won't, but it's some interesting stuff.

Now I'm in Mount Carmel, Tennessee, staying with my great aunt and uncle Allan and Ann for a few days. It's nice to get a break with some good people.

Happy birthday, Luke.


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