Amtrekker

Hey Team,

In another story, in another world, she would have swept gracefully into the scene. But that would be literature. Fiction. This is a true story.

That being said it wouldn’t be fair to say she lumbered either. It was something in between. Let’s try this:

La Dreamer trotted up the bus steps and down the aisle surveying her surroundings. Not with a sense of royalty but with something similar. A sense of entitlement. Her drawn on eyebrows bowed down as her forehead creased in frustration. Most all the seats were taken and with this came a second realization; this was going to be a long ride. A very long ride. Pardon the expression but “comfort was going to take a back seat.”

She chose the only available position, a seat directly behind Stone Face.

Stone Face had already chosen his seat six hours and 300 miles earlier…much to the chagrin of the young man next to him. He’s a big man. Much bigger than the “average person” the designers had arbitrarily calculated around decades earlier when the enormous motor coach was first built. As a result he tended to ooze toward the window seat unbidden. For hours this continued and like any great plate of melting gelatin he continued to spread outward. Slowly at first but all too suddenly suffocation seemed imminent for his neighbor.

La Dreamer tells her story.

“F*ck! When is this f*ckin’ bus supposed to get to Portland?”

“Doesn’t matter sweetness. You’re stuck now. You’ll get there the same time as the rest of us.” More solid logic has never been uttered by a man with a ponytail. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“My real name or what I go by?”

“What do you go by?”

“La Dreamer.”

“Luh what?”

“La Dreamer. LA Dreamer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I never give out my real name. I just go by La Dreamer.”

“Okay…” he struggles to use her nom de guerre but it’s a losing battle. “darlin’ –” Immediately cut off his job now is only to sit and listen. To all of it.

“I have to be in f*ckin’ Hillsborough for a court date tomorrow.” The next hour brings with it a full picture of the world La Dreamer has created around herself through sheer force of arrogance. A guided tour through a gallery of bad decisions. “This is only my second offence but it’s a f*ckin’ attempted murder charge.”
“Should’ve f*ckin’ let my sister fight her own battles!”
“My first offence was f*ckin’ armed assault and I’m f*ckin’ on probation right now.”
“Can’t plead ‘not guilty.’ How do you accidentally f*ckin’ shank someone!”
“I’m not supposed to leave the state, but f*ck that!”

One seat ahead, Stone Face’s angry glare remains the only immobile portion of his body.

Minutes tick by like hours, hours like days…

“Hey!” La Dreamer begins shouting. Again. “Hey! You! You have a pen?” She’s addressing the poor kid now pressed tightly against the window, surrounded by Stone Face. Eager to shift weight and have an excuse to come up for air he turns.

“Yeah?”

“Lemme have a pen.”

Without wasting precious breathe on a “please” or “thank you” she puts the pen to use endlessly tapping the back of the hapless pen owners chair.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click

“When’s this f*ckin’ bus get to Portland?”

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click

Eager to be helpful again the pony-tailed Samaritan chimes in. “It should be in Seattle around seven o’clock.” And is quickly rebuked.

“F*CK! It’s a three f*ckin’ hour– It’s a three hour f*ckin’–” La Dreamer interrupts herself twice, spots a six year old across the aisle and composes herself.

“It’s a F*CKING THREE HOUR DRIVE FROM SEATTLE! I’M NEVER GOING TO GET THERE!”

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click

Stone Face, snapped out of his self-imposed coma, looks back…and smiles.

The rest happens quickly. A McDonald’s food stop is the perfect pretext to switch seats. Before the universe has time to do a double take Stone Face and La Dreamer have found themselves in each other’s arms. The transformation is astonishing. Beneath a blanket cuddled up Stone Face looks like a giddy man-child. His grin creates a visage worthy of a Baby Huey cartoon. All that’s missing from his over-sized frame is a bonnet, perhaps a beanie with a propeller attached.

Finally able to breathe deep, the kid one seat up reaffixes his worn green hat and settles into a Mark Twain tale dreaming of a trip to Gibraltar as described by the American author…until the moaning starts.

Followed closely by the sudden and repeated seat kicking. Luckily, this doesn’t last long as they seem to settle down. Or maybe he just tells himself they’ve settled down. No matter, eventually the scene changes once more.

On the phone La Dreamer screams at an ex-boyfriend. The whole bus listens in not because they want to but because they have no choice. The one sided battle rages on for close to half an hour before the borrowed cell phone is snatched back. She lowers her drawn on eyebrows once more and glares at the man audacious enough to reclaim his own phone.

“F*ck! Fine! Whatever!”

Reminded of borrowed objects the kid in the green hat starts to think that maybe a crossword will help to pass the time. He turns to the snuggling couple, both banes of his day’s existence in their own right.

“Hey, do you mind if I get my pen back.”

“I don’t have it.”

“What do you mean you don’t have it?”

“I think I laid it down somewhere.”

“Well, can you go pick it up somewhere now?”

“I don’t know where I f*ckin’ put it.”

“Okay…then do you have a pen I could borrow?”

“Ha! No! I borrowed yours!”

“Yeah. I know. You suck.”

Resigned to his failure he slides back into his seat as he sees La Dreamer and Stone Face slide back into each other’s arms. They look longingly and smile. He overhears her words spoken softly.

“Why’s everyone so f*ckin’ hostile on this bus?”

I’m done.

Brett.

If you like the stories you could always buy me a snack!

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

I spent the better part of yesterday on the phone with AppleCare trying to figure out what’s wrong with Charley but according to the Second Law of Broken Mechanics
(You’ve all seen this law in action when you take your car in and it wont make THAT noise around the mechanic.) he managed to hold a charge the night before making it impossible to figure out what’s going on.

Personally I think he’s just trying to warn me that if I don’t finish things up soon he’s going on strike. It’s definitely been a long tough road for the little guy and he probably hasn’t felt at home since January’s trip to MacWorld. So, if you want to do something special for him send your get well cards, questions and moral support to charley@amtrekker.com.

I’m on a westbound bus for the next couple days ultimately headed towards Lake Shasta for a weekend retreat so I have to conserve so charge. Which means…

I’m done.

Brett.

Hey Team,

Charley is having some charging issues this week and it’s making life very difficult when it comes to updating the site so I hope you guys don’t mind the delays in new content. (Because I freaking HATE it!) I’m taking him to the hospital (a.k.a. Apple Store) this afternoon but before I do that I wanted to get an exciting post up.

It seems one of the countries best kept secrets (right up until you read this) is North Western Michigan. I don’t know what the area is like during the wintertime and that always scares me (you all know #4 on the list of things I hate is “cold weather”) but while I was hanging around the Frankfort, Crystal Lake, Pt. Betsie area I was greeted by nothing short of an extra large helping of beautiful.

But to skip to the point (Get it? Oh man…that’s a good one…), my second night in the area brought me to the Point Betsie Lighthouse, where thanks to Jen and Amy, I was given the grand tour of this 150 year old piece of Michigan history (by Jay) before being left to my own devices.

My “devices” in this case seemed to consist mostly of my mobile phone as around 1am I found myself standing in the top of the lighthouse trying to get enough cell reception to conduct a phone interview (This link will only be up for a little bit. I’ll try to get it uploaded to Amtrekker permanently.) with a Canadian radio station.

Prior to that, Amber from Papano’s Pizza came by to drop off the world’s largest midnight snack and I gave her a quick tour around “my” lighthouse. Throwing off some fun facts I had learned from Jay and largely pretending I knew what I was talking about and that I had actually done some research. At one point we considered making GIANT shadow puppets but that didn’t seem to work out so well…

My favorite story surrounding Point Betsie (as told by Jay) involves the specs for construction as laid out by the US government circa 1858. Apparently it was mandated that “Milwaukee brick” be used for the construction of the outer walls of the main keep and that the roof be painted a slate grey. The funny thing about Milwaukee brick that is completely apparent at first glance is that it is made from pale yellow clay.

“What makes that so funny?”

Well, welcome back Mr. Disembodied Voice. I’ll tell you why that’s is funny.

Lighthouses are built for only one purpose: As an aid to navigation. The light shines all through the night at a specific rotational speed to alert passing ships of exactly where they are by providing an easily recognizable marker on land. Unfortunately, Point Betsie at its infancy still had twelve hours of daylight a day in which to HIDE from passing ships with its 18th century stealth technology…

It took years of the shipping industry petitioning the government to paint the lighthouse bright white with a bright red roof before they could actually consistently see the marker the government had built for them.

I love that story.

That evening, after the interview, I took one final lap around my bachelor pad, poked my head out the door when I thought I was going crazy to verify there was a party going on at the beach and then made my way up to the “Master Suite.” (Which consisted of an old twin bed with a foam mattress and a rug. In short, one of the coziest places I had slept in a week.)

The evening was absolutely perfect in its uneventfulness (which I officially declare a word now). The bed was more comfortable than you’d think. The sturdy construction of the lighthouse kept out noise from the wind and the party. The temperature stayed comfortable enough to sleep with nothing more than a sheet. And most importantly, I didn’t get raped by any ghosts.

And as great as it was to have another goal accomplished and crossed off the list the highlights of the week really came from the surrounding community. Bob and Ginny Istnick, Jen’s parents, were incredibly gracious hosts and very forgiving (in more ways than one). Andy, the owner of Papano’s Pizza, put me up for a night and was a great guy to have around (making just about every situation more entertaining). Although his 4 year old son did steal my dignity in a game of Wii baseball.

I literally didn’t meet a single person whose company I didn’t enjoy and if I left anyone out I’m sorry and feel free to leave a comment telling me what a thoughtless jerk I can be! It’ll be cathartic.

Okay, Charley has an appointment so I guess I’m done.

Brett.

If you like to follow the adventure and want to help with Charley’s “medical bills” then feel free to donate…

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

I made it to Frankfort, MI, no joke, named after a guy named Frank that used to own a Fort here on the bay. Apparently everyone used to say, “Hey let’s go meet at Frank’s Fort.” (I was assured I wasn’t being screwed with on this point.)

Regardless, I’ve made it to the next destination, I’ve seen the lighthouse I’m sleeping in tonight and I’ve already met some incredible people. It’s such a great cap to an otherwise crappy week. Right now I’m even less excited about the lighthouse than I am to continue to spend time around people that are eager to share their lives and their town with me.

This is an amazingly diverse town but not in the usual sense of the word. The area may even rival Pigeon Forge, TN and Branson, MO for high levels of weird. Not that same kind of “quirky show and tourist trap” weird that they have in those towns but there does seem to be an awful lot of tourism here.

In this case I keep getting driven around the lake while Andy, the guy who was generous enough to pick me up at the bus station an hour from here and provide me with a much needed shower and bed last night, points to random homes and cottages and saying things like, “That’s where the guy that invented barcodes lives. The owners of Dow Chemical own this place. The inventor of the crazy straw lives in that compound. This sign that says ‘Hilton’ is actually the crazy Hilton’s Uncle…” and it just keeps going.

I can’t wait to explore the area a little more over the next day or two.

PLUS, tonight…I sleep in the Point Betsie Lighthouse! Ka-KOW!

I’m done.

Brett.

So, the lighthouse is set but that don’t mean I couldn’t use more help! Care to donate?

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

It’s been a pretty exhausting week. I can’t imagine a worse way to clean up all these geocaches that I’ve missed in my multiple trips across the country than via a series of long bus rides where no one wants to talk unless they’re already talking to themselves followed but stints of wandering through strange cities long enough to get tired but not long enough to make new friends.

But in the positive column it’s nice to see the map fill in with states I don’t have to continue to worry about. The geocaches are definitely coming along and more importantly I’m on my way to Michigan and Indiana now not just to geocache but to head up to the second most photographed lighthouse in America which ALSO happens to be coming up on its 150th anniversary. You can imagine how excited I am just to sleep somewhere where I’m not sitting upright in a disturbingly undersized and uncomfortable seat so it’s doubly awesome that I get to cross another one off the list at the same time in such an epic place!

I better go jump on yet another bus with a painfully few (i.e. no) outlets at my disposal. I think Charley is starting to get cranky with all the sitting around not being used. Sorry, buddy!

I’m done.

Brett.

If you want to help out with the cause (read: buy me food) click below!

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

Today started out pretty typical. I had a clear-cut goal I wanted to accomplish. I had the means and the wherewithal to make it happen. And I was well rested. Then the universe decided that today was the day I got my comeuppance.

Someone, somewhere, decided now was the time to punish me for some unknown but obviously terrible transgressions that I’ve made in my past.

The plan was to swing through Connecticut, New Jersey and Delaware (at least) to clean up some missed geocaches before heading westward for a couple bigger list items. I had laid things out pretty well. (Not to pat myself on the back it’s just that you guys know it’s kind of a big deal when I manage to plan anything at all. So, yeah. I was a little proud.) First stop was Hartford, CT and there was a cache that was less than half a mile from the bus station AND another bus leaving for New Jersey 45 minutes later. Plenty of time to hop off, grab the cache and make it back to head out for the next one.

But my batteries died. And as it turns out there’s no such thing as an open store in downtown Hartford on a Sunday. An hour of walking later I finally stumbled across an open Walgreens. I started out .4 miles away from the cache…now I was 2.8 miles away.

Now suddenly I was two hours deep into this 45-minute adventure; I found the geocache without much trouble. But finding my way back to the bus station was another matter. I knew it was near the freeway so I made my way in that direction and made a point of staring blankly at the expanse of concrete once I got there. I had no idea what to do next. Eventually I saw a greyhound drive up an onramp and assumed I needed to go in the opposite direction he was headed.

That’s when it started POURING rain. The streets became rivers almost immediately. After only five minutes of walking towards the nearest shelter I was soaked. No dry spots on my body so I just gave up and continued fording the streets in the pouring rain.

As soon as I made it to the bus station I went to change out of my wet clothes to discover that my bag isn’t quite as water resistant as it once was.

Another bus to New Jersey was on its way.

“Could I get a ticket for Newark please.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Newark. Newark, New Jersey.”

“What was that?”

“I’d like to go to Newark, New Jersey please!”

“Ah! Of course. [*smile*] 4:15, gate 5.”

It was about 4:14 when I was standing in line in front of gate 5 that I stopped to read my ticket more carefully. My ticket to “Newton, MA.”

Turns out I had missed the bus to Newark while I was waiting for the bus to Newton and had to wait ANOTHER hour.

This meant I was lucky enough to catch the bus that sat around in New York City rush hour traffic for hours until I missed my connection to Delaware in Newark.

Which is why, in a nutshell, I spent last night wandering around the streets of 1996’s titleholder for Most Dangerous City in America in the cold and rain. Because suddenly I was stuck in a town I knew nothing about, where I knew no one and it was too late to make new friends.

Sorry if this post is a little jumbled and bitter. I’m pretty exhausted right now. But on the upside today can only be better!

I’m done.

Brett.

If you like following along and laughing at my occasional pain why not donate?

Don’t let me stop you.