Miles, Not Hours

Once upon a time, there was a Scottish man walking into my bar, asking for a pint of Guinness. I'm sure there are better starts for a joke like this, but this is a true story for me. The gentleman was on the wiser side of age, and told me his lifelong dream was to travel from LA, California to Miami, Florida on his motorcycle. He stopped along his travels to the bar I tended, fortunately. Making conversation, he made an observation about subtle differences between an American's vs. Scottish fellow's lifestyle. Nothing too drastic, but the one difference sticking out to me the most was how we differ on measuring distance. I thought he was referring to the classical 'mile' vs. 'kilometer' argument, but he caught me by surprise. He asked how far was the nearest city. Instinctively, I said about an hour or so of driving, and that's exactly what he wanted to hear from me. "When did we start measuring journeys by time, and rid ourselves of miles AND kilometers?" He had a chuckle with his beer, and could see it in my eyes how right he was. I journeyed to Virginia Beach to see a Hozier concert with time ahead of me, but the trip home carried distance.

Preparing for a long journey is the key for leaving right on time. I sacrificed half my sleep to be ready for departure, and I was still frantically packing into the wee minutes of the day's first hour. Luckily, my list kept me focused, and I didn't forget a single item... except the charger for my camcorder. No big deal, I have my phone for any camera needs I may have down the road. I didn't want to resort to energy drinks or junk-food, for what I assumed a 13 hour drive, and took a note from my mom's traveling habits. I packed: three bologna sandwiches (topped with LOTS of spinach), a few bananas, a pound of blueberries, a few protein shakes, and half a pack of water. Turns out, blueberries are the stuff of life and infinite energy! Seriously though, even after hour 10 or so, I could not for the life of me remember what being tired felt like. I was only tired if I stopped moving, and I didn't want to be anymore behind schedule considering my arrival timestamp went from 2:30 p.m. to 5:30 p.m.

Graciously, I strolled into the hotel with bloodshot eyes, and what I can only imagine (from the front desk's perspective) what must've looked like the leaning tower of Pisa personified. Making it to my room was an accomplishment of it's own, but what I did next was interesting. I downed three bottles of water, a delicious oatmeal raisin cookie (yes I said delicious and oatmeal raisin in the same sentence), and a cold shower to wake me up. I probably needed the rest, but taking a nap this close to the concert's show time would mean certain doom for myself. Next, I went to the hotel's gym to get my blood pumping, and partook in a lovely pizzeria's stone oven pepperoni. The smell alone raised my spirits, then the bartender complimented my long arms; suggesting I should look into rock climbing. I think it was a compliment, regardless, I destroyed the delicious pizza, and made my way to the amphitheater.

Lucky for me, the hotel was only ten minutes from said amphitheater. Along with everything else, honestly; must be nice living on an island. Traffic getting there was very manageable, but as far as parking went, I went to a place I only heard myths and ballads about: the YMCA. Luckily, I decided I needed a jacket for my trip to a 89 degree beach; lucky being the key word because a sprinkle was kicking up with the overcast. Rocking my jacket in this predicament, I figured my "Mary Poppins" approved umbrella would be handy too. That being said, I couldn't help but notice two ladies struggling to take shelter under, what I can only describe, as an umbrella prize from a Japanese vending machine. Comically smaller than you think. The misty sprinkle wasn't really bothering me, and I thought I could help them stay dry by offering to trade umbrellas. However, having to approach them with the best "Excuse me," almost sent them in a fit, right into the wet ditch. Once they finally realized I was offering to trade umbrellas, they quickly declined and sped walked away. Oh well, I guess I continue to impress Ms. Poppins.

At long last, I reached the Veteran's United Home Loans Amphitheater. The name has a nice ring to it. Regardless of the name, I was ecstatic to finally make my journey's main goal complete. Nothing could be celebrated, though, until I find a spot to sit and enjoy Hozier; live for the first time. I couldn't know where to start, but the music was in sync with the planes; flying above the crowd I sat with, almost like moths drawn to the flame Hozier stoked in our souls. We were a quantum of candle-lit flames, brighter than any raging stars in the chaotic night sky.

Someone once told me, "If you don't bring anything back from your journey, how do you know you even left?" Seriously, that was the best sales pitch I've heard for a merchandise stand. I thought about this leaving the concert (after Hozier's four encores), and agreed it wouldn't hurt to spend a little to remember a lot. I grabbed a hoodie for myself, and was already cursing under my breath for spending $70 on clothing. Almost like a shooting star, something unexpected happened. I saw the soul and smile of a beautiful woman I know, in this sand colored hoodie decorated with lyrics. Funny enough, her face wasn’t literally on it, but every fiber of my being told me to bring it back to her. The cost was irrelevant to me now; it leaked the warmth I felt around her, and it felt like it was a piece of her I needed to return.

Shortly after the concert, I made myself scarce from the YMCA parking lot. Nothing was wrong, but traffic was not moving, and I was coming close to my 24 hour mark of consciousness (on three hours of sleep). The strangest thing, I was not tired. However, I knew how long I had been awake, and was suspicious of what I can only assume adrenaline was keeping me standing. With my focus still on operating levels, and my options short, I made out like Smokey and the Bandit; making my own exit. I mounted the curb, drove over the sidewalk, glided gently over the lawn, and through a shallow ditch full of weeds; all the way to freedom. Finally, I returned to my hotel room. Not an inch of me was tired or sleepy, almost like I forgot how. As soon as my body made contact with the bed, I quickly remembered.

With a sense of accomplishment, I took my time on the journey home. Instead of going through Atlanta (too many highway patrolmen) I added 49 minutes to my trip to explore Tennessee. Beautiful mountaintops, smooth winding roads, and historic buildings of brick peeking through the woods. I’ll never drive through Atlanta again.

This trip was based entirely off a whim. I was eating Mexican food with my friends from work, and next thing I have are tickets being e-mailed to me. I’ve recently become a big supporter of Hozier, about a month or so, before I bought the tickets. Hell, I didn’t even look at where the concert was being held before I clicked “purchase”. But I had a feeling. A pull, I would call it, to go after this no matter what would by my obstacle. Don’t get me wrong, the driving up there was almost hell in a handbasket. That being said, I would do it again in a Planck. Now I’m hooked on a mistress I haven’t experienced before; Wanderlust.