Exodus

Well, I managed to do it.  After a night out at 9 muses and a late return to the Hawthorne Traveller’s Hostel, I awoke at 7 AM by chance and showered up to head out the door.  Today’s the day for the start of the Supernormal Wine Tour: Willamette Valley, so, it’s pack up the bags lightning quick and out the door and onto the MAX red line to the Airport, a practice run for the day I am trying to not consider; the day I have to leave Portland behind.  But, this trip to the airport will be to rent a Dollar Rental Car and drive out to the Willamette Valley and finally walk amongst the vines.  Sunshine and grapevines. 

I said goodbye to a few fellow travellers and put back together the Supernormal Road Kit and jettisoned my now oblong and imbalanced self out the door and on to the 14 Hawthorne Bus to downtown.  My head still reeling from the previous evenings revelries at 9 Muses.  I celebrated the coming of today last night with some fellow Hobo Travellers, and now I’m paying for it with ineffective Bayer tablets and sunglasses.  Heavy stuff in-tow.  That will kill the hangover, or me.  My money is on it killing the hangover, so it’s lumber on, Lumpy.

  View from the window of the MAX Redline to the Airport

Long Black Train

It’s overcast this morning, but, there is something more than that.  I feel like I am slipping into a little lull emotionally.  When I travel there is a formula.  I do not intend it, and it is not quite unique to me.  Other ‘conscious hobo’s’ have similar experiences.  Travelling as I choose to, alone, lugging everything I need on my back, ‘backpacking’ as it’s commonly called.  I find that there are certain stages or emotional states that always come in an ordered cycle.  

First: The Gush -  A giddy bubbly love for anything and everything in the wide-world.  That lasts for a few days; sometimes a week.  Then: The Dump - that’s when then the gilded-tinge on everything fades and I begin to go inside of myself and start to feel that bastard loneliness and emptiness.  A peek into a pit of despair and your heart goes to your shoes so that you stomp all over it with every step you take the weight of your pack emphasizing the blows.  The Hobo Traveller questions his motives and criticizes his actions.  ”Why not the beach?” I hear someone say inside my own mind.  ‘The Dump’ doesn’t last long, but, I think that stage is working it’s way in now.  It sucks but, the other side of it is: The Rise – a leveling off and a smooth climb into a complete happiness with the place and the process of travel and the knowledge that it brings.  But, as any cycle isn’t a one time gig, so, don’t mind the down-times and look a loft.  For round and round it goes.

There’s a college education in 8 days on the road.  There’s a Master’s in a month.  Institutional education won’t teach you how to hold on to the world when it goes wobbly and you’ve abandoned yourself for a strange town and a whirlwind.  This is why I travel like I do.  Sounds heavy, and it is, there is no doubt that you’re among the living and learning to live better, and reflecting on the cycle is brand new for me.  This is but my second go-round.       

The car deal didn’t work out.  No major woop, just a brief bummer.  I finally chalked it up as a ‘slight adjustment’ and got back on the MAX to City Center.  Enter “The Dump” – I put my sunglasses on and moved through the motions while the MAX clacked me back to the best thing that resembles home – the hostel.  Good thing the Red line is a long jaunt from the airport to downtown, it gave me time to work it through.  That bastard loneliness came back and moistened my eyes and put the aortas and ventricles out of order.  I Hung my head and lumbered back to the hostel to book the rest of my stay.  They only have tonight open.  The weekend is booked but I’ll check in the morning for a potential cancellation.  If not there is another hostel across town in Northwest Portland.  If that’s bust, then there’s always the luxury of a Days Inn. 

 A little Fence in the Japanese Gardens Portland, Oregon

Emotional Daybreak and a Distilling of the Dream

Enter ”The Rise”.  It clicked on the MAX and now I am finding out how to define it.  The reason why everything went awry at the airport and I can’t get the car until tomorrow which means I had to cancel the first day’s appointments is this:  I don’t want to go to wine country.  That simple.  Maybe some day in the future, but right now I’m in Portland, Oregon, man.  I’m here on a Public Transit Tour.  I got plans, baby.  I want to just do the job and do it righteously.  I want to rock this thing out and stay where the getting is good.  I’m rounding the corner and setting out on a new and elevated path.  The tears distilled the dream and refocused the vision.  Oh, the ideas and the little treats I’ve got coming for you.  Let’s get Supernormal!  I got a little light and guess what I’m gonna let it do!