mixed bag

Yes. I just found this on Digg:

Man travels across 37 countries on $2 | The Daily Telegraph

This is exactly the sort of thing that got me excited about traveling the world almost ten years ago. At that time I ended up traveling for about a month in Europe, in a very expensive fashion. At that time I vowed to find a way to do it again. Right now I'm starting to honor that vow.

But what really strikes me is the similarity in the stories. Back in 1999 and 2000, National Geographic served a three- or four-part series on a guy who was at that very time circumnavigating Australia on a bike. I say the story was about him; it was also BY him. And the writing, the descriptions of the way he shed his character, got in touch with himself deeply, even the descriptions of the orange dusk loneliness he experienced in the outback. Wonderful, really, really wonderful. That was what made me decide to delay college for travel, and it's one of the decisions and experiences I most value to this day.

And so here I am, trying to decide to start traveling but balking at my complete lack of money and all the various loose ends that aren't tied up. And I see this article about a guy travelling 37 (thirty-seven!) countries on a bike.

I hadn't even considered a bike as a means of getting from point A to point B. I wonder if I could get south before the winter hit? I wonder how I could live on a bike, traveling across the country. I wonder if I could still get things done for Citizens Market. Wow, what a notion. What if I died of thirst in the desert of Utah? Wow.

What if I die of blunt trauma here in the streets of Boston? Wow, what a thought. Last night this guy stopped me with his hand and asked: "hey man, you got any money?" He asked it kinda friendly-like; the tone was peaceful, almost familiar.

wtf, I thought. This hasn't happened to me before. I assumed he was thinking about mugging me. We were on the Harvard bridge, halfway between MIT and Boston, with the cold and dark Charles swirling beneath us. There was some drizzle in the air, but it wasn't unbearably cold, actually quite refreshing. It was funny because, as I was approaching this guy and his crew I had been thinking about how powerless I'd be if some group of people decided to throw me off the bridge.

As we walked past one another he put out his hand and stopped me. Not hard, like a wall, but more soft, like a fishing line. Soft, but still a hand on my chest. Directly and unambiguously stating he was stepping out of the background and was taking my attention.

I said, "excuse me?".

"I asked, do-you-have-any-money?"

I stared at him for a second. That same feeling of disbelief forming as when that drunk guy attacked me.

"You mean like, was I born into money? No, I don't come from money. Why do you ask?"

"Because I need some money"

"Man, we all need money." I said it in a slightly grow-the-fuck-up kinda tone, but also friendly. I really wanted him to see. And I wasn't letting him go on the offensive again. What the fuck could he have planned other than an excuse to turn violent?

But no, even though I hold myself like one, I'm not the rich MIT kid with $300 cash in his pocket. Sell that fine-ass coat of yours if you need money.

A squat baseball cap on his head, brim high and flat. He was tall and thin, with a refined, preppy look. A gangster with a $200 gift card at Foot Locker. He was black, so were all his mates. They had walked on down the bridge and were now stopped about fifty yards away, turned and waiting.

We looked at each other for a few moments while I begged him to see that he was full of shit, and then he turned and walked toward the crew. I turned and walked on my way - toward the MIT campus.

I was using a technique my therapist taught me, quite simple really. I was saying to myself "it's also possible there's NOT a gun pointed at my head. Right? That IS a possibility." After about a hundred feet I turned around to see what they were doing and ... bingo! they were following me.

When they saw me turn around the guy said something in that same friendly tone. The wind masked exactly what. I stood there and put my ear to my head: "I can't hear you!"

He couldn't hear me either. His shouting came in a few more bursts, each progressively angrier. As they got closer, I started to make it out: various variations on "what'd you say to me, motherfucker?"

me: "I said I can't hear you!"

"What, motherfucker? What was that?"

So I started walking to meet them, innocently closing the gap so they could hear me. When I got close I decided I wasn't taking any chances. I put my hands palm-up in a clearly placative gesture (there were 4 or 5 of them) and said, very loudly: "I said I couldn't hear what you said."

"How the fuck you gonn' be making gestures at me an shit?"

I said something like "dude, I've got no problem with you." Once again trying to speak as clearly as possible - what you're doing is absurd, and I'm aghast. Gentle, not sarcastic, not cutting. Gentle but shocked still. What the fuck dude?

"Then why you following us?"

"Come on man, this guy's soft. Let's go" said his mate, hand on the shoulder and turning him, trying to walk away with him.

He broke away and walked up to me, stood right in my face, looking down at me across six inches. What allows me to bluff in these moments I have no idea. It's as if I'm bluffing even to myself. At that moment I was completely serene, though on guard. I stood there and looked at him, that kind of a hurt look, but not a yielding one.

Why the heck does has this been happening to me? What are the odds? Can these guys see I'm homeless?

He wasn't frenzied, or enraged, just peeved, offended. This made me not too worried.

The same friend came up and grabbed his shoulder, turned him away. "Come on, this guy's soft, man." As he led his friend away, he called back to me "You know how I know you're soft? You ~~ ~~ ~~~~~~ ~~" and it was lost in the wind.

I said "thanks" to this friend and walked on. I checked my back often and got to the end of the bridge.

By the time I was inside Building 7 I was shaking. Earlier in the night a good friend of mine had also made a threatening gesture at me. I don't know why. I'm not sure if he knows why. It was very subtle (he knows how to communicate with me), and I was high so I might have imagined it. But I'm pretty sure it was there.

We were petting a cat together, he and I. I'd been hanging out with his girlfriend, which may have been the source of the tension. But he's definitely not the type to be threatened by that. Probably I had a sexual thought or two about his (gorgeous) girl and that made me feel guilty when he walked in the room. But it seemed like he fueled it beyond what was called for. The tension was like syrup, like thick, tight spider webbing between us. I couldn't meet his eye. Why? I didn't look at his girl while he was in the room. It was clear what was going on, and yet unfounded. Did my body know something I don't? Despite my enormous respect for this guy, was I on some level thinking of betraying him?

Or is it because all because ... god wants to kick my ass?