It’s sad that in my mind I can’t put a year to the adventure
that follows. I’m sure it was less than six but more than three years ago. I’m
almost positive it was in March, and I know for a fact I will only be able to
recall 50% of what actually happened. It all started with a trip I had planned
to take to Ireland. Well, in theory at least.
My mom, years earlier had offered to take me on a trip to
beautiful Ireland, all I had to do was fill out some simple paperwork to get a
passport, and I think we could have solidified those plans. At the time I was
living and working in Lanesboro, and spent nearly every dollar and minute on
alcohol and its related habits. I wanted to go on a trip, but the more I
thought about it, the more I simply couldn’t go. I owned like three pairs of
pants, all of which had been cut off at the knee to make shorts, and all of
which had holes in either the front or the back which sucked because they
usually lined up with the holes in my underpants which did not exist. I’ve
written about my woes in the Burro, so I shall move on.
I think my mom had given up on me regarding the skip across
the pond, but I had an idea one early morning that I woke up with a day off and
started drinking at 3am. I desperately wanted to go see the Twins in spring
training in St. Petersburg, Florida, where I thought they played. So, I called
my mom, and laid out my plan: My friend Seth and I would embark on a week long
journey to Florida that would make up for me not going to Ireland with her. And
for some reason, she went for it. And that very day, the ball started rolling.
It only took a few hours to figure out that the Twins played in Fort Meyers,
well across the state.
Seth had been sleeping on the other couch at his house while
this was all happening, and I had already asked the people he knew that would
need to know if it was okay to take him out of state for a trip and everybody
said okay. When he woke up, I sort of matter of factly told him we were going
and he said okay. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he had never been on an
airplane.
Flash forward…. Sometime in March, I think. The day of
departure. We were ready. I mean it’s all we talked about for a month. We were
packed, I had some new clothes, some money, and everything we needed for this
trip as well as one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had. The kind that I couldn’t
even drink away which was extremely rare for me. I tried, but I just couldn’t
ingest any alcohol. This wouldn’t be the only time on the trip.
I passed right through security, Seth was stopped, searched,
wanded, and then taken to a special, unmarked room where I can only assume he
was probed because when he exited, his hair was tousled, shirt untucked and
ripped, and his belt was undone. He had a smile on his face, so I knew they
searched quite deeply! None of that, of course, is true, but it makes me smile
thinking about it. We made it through to the gate, boarded the plane and off we
went. We would be taking the “L” tour of the country to Florida with a pit stop
at LaGuardia in New York where we had plans to act like New Yorkers by yelling,
“Fuck Boston” over and over in our thickest, phoniest, New York accents. We
followed through.
We boarded another plane and took off over the city at night
which is always one of the most beautiful things to me. The lights never seemed
to end, even at well over 200 miles per hour.
To be continued…
