Prologue

The fall of 2004 was not a great time. I found myself living in my car, in Ohio, selling blood plasma to put gas in the tank and buying the cheapest food I could find from the clearance rack of a local grocery store’s bakery. It was getting colder every night and I had a trip to make to St. Louis.

 

Arriving there, I attended my cousin’s wedding, and decided I definitely didn’t want to go back East. I was already pointed West, and believe it or not made it all the way to Seal Beach, CA with only $100 worth of gas. I put my last $5 in the tank in Vegas. You wouldn’t believe the sense of relief as I crested the mountains and got to point downhill again. I stopped at a mall and asked for directions to “the beach”.

 

A local working at a cell phone kiosk was nice enough to draw me a map. he told me to take “the 10”. Travel tip: interstates are referred to as “70”, and “75”, but, “the 10” and “the 101”. It actually threw me for a curve, but he soon set me straight on the local method of referring to roads (important if you need directions!), and I was off to “the beach”.

 

I parked, ignoring the signs that restrict parking in the most nonsensical manner possible, and walked out onto the beach. The sun was shining beautifully as I stepped between the palm trees and saw the sparkling Pacific for the first time. I took off my shoes to feel the sand between my toes and thanked God that I had made it this far. I’d had my doubts every time the engine groaned, but somehow, I was here.

 

I listened to the gulls cry, and the waves crash just sitting there for at least an hour. I saw a pier, and walked up and down it, smelling the salty sea, and listening the boards creak and groan. I saw a guy, obviously homeless sleeping with his bike and huddling under a blanket. I decided I should get a job, so I didn’t end up like that. Funny how life works, ain’t it?