Every story ends with a moral lesson. To arrive at that point, one must get through a lot of pontificating crap. Avoid the crap, you lose the message. Lose the message, well good luck learning to navigate the poorly marked channel past the treacherous, rocky shoals of this thing we call life.
On the way home from my first trip to the States, I end up finding myself stranded alone in Los Angeles for a few days. Stranded might be too harsh a term, a self-imposed separation from my travel companions is probably more accurate. I was driving to L.A. from Colorado via Salt Lake City with two mates, Dono and Ted. Then I take a hastily organized and poorly thought out side trip to Austin, TX for a few days. They say travel isn’t about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself. Well on this trip I find out I am an idiot and create a lot of drama.
Originally my flight to Austin is to leave from Salt Lake International via Las Vegas. Then I find out that the only accommodation I can afford, while alone in the capital of Utah for three extra days waiting for the flight, is a downtown motel that rents by the week. The reason it is so affordable is that the décor would make a roach infested, flea bag dump feel like a penthouse suite with an extra bathroom at Caesar's Palace. For three days, if I have to the balls to leave my room, I will be rubbing shoulders with the elements of society that regularly rent motel rooms by the week who are not cheap Australian travelers. Men who just completed a rehab course for hard drug addiction, or men about to start a rehab course. Not all Mormons live in a big house with six wives. A few unlucky ones fall off the rails and exist on the fringes of society, with only four wives. The accommodation is essentially a half-way house for vagrants that has given itself the fancy title of motel. The three of us stay there two nights while we enjoy hitting the excellent Utah powder at the mountain resorts of Snowbird and Alta. Three white boys with drinking problems on a ski vacation from Australia. We all fit right in with the residents of Bob's Downtown Lodge.
After seconds of deliberation, rather than wait it out in Salt Lake's low rent district I decide to continue westward with Dono and Ted for three more days. This allows me a chance to ski one day at Squaw Valley and avoid contracting Hepatitis C by using the toilet at Bob's. Then my mates drop me at Reno airport to take my hastily reconfigured, and now even more poorly thought out, trip to Austin. Now I transfer in Phoenix. I am experiencing the grandeur of cities of America one at a time from the food outlets at airports. Joy. The other lads continue to San Francisco with a vague plan to meet up with me in L.A.
Sitting alone in a departure lounge is a great place to come to understand when you have made a poor travel choice. Other times it takes a further two days, 14 hours and 31 minutes, as you find yourself alone in a random motel on the edge of a town in Texas. The forging of character that stems from travel doesn't come from moments when you are surrounded by 800 people knocking back steins in a beer hall at Oktoberfest. Or while staying up all night at a rave in Ibiza. Or walking hand in hand with the woman of your dreams along a country road in Tuscany during Springtime. It is during harsh moments of introspection when cold, alone, and afraid in an unfamiliar city.
Isolation is the anvil of self. This is the first trip where I have left the safety of my country. I then relinquished the security of being around my mates at the airport in Reno. Arriving in Austin I started to feel nervous I had bitten off more than I could chew. Now it is all on me. Most of us grow up being coddled to a large extent by our parents. When things go pear shaped they are always there with a comforting word or a reassuring hug. There are no hugs being given out by the motel staff in Texas. After accepting responsibility that my visit to the city had been extremely poorly thought out I jump on the first available flight to the city of Angels.
Austin should have been great. It is the home of the University of Texas. There are numerous parks and lakes for activities. San Antonio is just over an hour's drive south. There lies the Alamo, the precursor and inspiration to every school shooting in USA since 1836. Austin is famed for its music scene and nightlife. It is home to the famous 8th Street. A staple feature in every college town in the US is an area of the city that contains a few college bars, Austin took that idea and went crazy with it. Let's have a whole street lined with bars they said. I am of an age where the concept of an entire street lined with pubs holds considerably greater interest than the historical aspect of Austin being the state capitol. Probably still am. It really could have been a fascinating trip if I hadn't been so dumb.
I had been invited to visit the town by someone I met while skiing in Steamboat Springs. The excitement of making new acquaintances obviously has people make offers they have no intention to honor. As I sadly find out. A great rule to remember. Not everyone who tells you they will be thrilled if you come to visit them, will be thrilled when you come to visit them. This is how I find myself in the predicament I am in.
Naivety, inexperience with the world, and a cute girl. The unhappy triad. Did you think I went to Austin for the Texas chili? I had essentially been ghosted, stood up, or shot down. This is a kick in the gut when it happens going to meet someone at the local Starbucks. To fly half way across the country for that experience is my crowning glory. A betrayal of the human spirit. If you don't want someone to visit you then don't ask them to come and visit you. It's not hard. It is something some of us like to call respect. While not as sinister as Brutus murdering Cesar, it is certainly on par with Judas selling out Jesus. I leave Austin with the loss of my innocence. Where does my trust in my fellow man go from this point? Will I ever get back on the horse? My flight touches down at LAX on Friday morning, three days earlier than planned. Now I must wait a few days prior to the pre-arranged rendezvous back with Dono and Ted. What am I going to do by myself in Los Angeles? If being on my own in Austin was intimidating, what will it be like in the sprawling monstrosity that is L.A.?