I’m leaving this place now. I regret that I made zero effort to pursue options out here. I really do. But I’m coming home.

I’m physically sick, I’m tired. I have a long drive and right now, my only plan is to get out of the sprawl of LA. I really wish I had done something out here. Truly a shame.

“Excuse me sir, can you spare some change for food? Some people give us food instead of change,” she tells me as her child walks into Starbucks ahead of her.
“I don’t have any food. Here’s all I have.”

It’s time to go. I’m down 5 cigarettes from the homeless and have no change left.

6:52am. Sleepless night. Christmas special on tv. The month of May. Smoke a cigarette. Leftover coffee. Check email. Money in the bank. Shower. Pack up my laundry, leave Thai Town and head west to Little Armenia to the coin laundry. Smokes at the shop around the corner.

Stout men with bellies in gray t-shirts. Fur-lined hoods. Grandmothers in thin clothes. Browns. Sweaters. Ms. Pac Man. I get the high score.

Gray skies, gray people, gray everything. People walking the streets. Back and forth. Bus stops. Filth. Nobody smiles. Ever.

“Will this be for one night?”
“Yes, just tonight.”
“A large part of our clientele is stay.”
“They live here?”
“No, it’s all men. Gay.”
“Oh. Can I still have a room?”
“Yes. For just tonight, right?”

Sade playing in the courtyard. Lite rock. Manga stickers on the oak furniture in the room.

A homeless man sits beside me at Starbucks. An acquaintance bums a cigarette. Tells him to look out for John with the handlebar moustache. John is jacking everyone, stole his cellphone, he warns.

The man is trying to make money. “Can we count on you to help out the veterans? Is your manager there? Dumb ass bitch.”

Hollywood.

Right now, I’m smiling from ear to ear. Sony Creative Software has given me a copy of their professional video-editing software, Vegas Pro!

I’m speechless. And of course, ridiculously grateful.

Look for some new videos in the coming weeks. (And then, of course, know that it was all done in Vegas Pro. Woohoo!!!!)

I think I’m far enough removed from the reunion now to put together my thoughts on this year’s experience and the thirty-five days leading up to it.

I left South Beach for a number of reason, not the least of which was to attend this reunion. To be around my friends, my family. For me, the journey to LA was a much longer experience than LA. And in fact, my journey was, in large part, the destination for me.

I spent five weeks on the road, traveling to meet friends. Lifelong friends. New friends. Friends who count as family. I had a lot of time to myself during that trip. There were moments of human interaction. That reads so distant, but truly, it was. Every conversation I had along the trip, with the exception of a few, lasted no longer than a minute. I was alone. For a long, long time I was alone.

I remember sitting by myself in Arizona. Scooter overheated. Two hours. Nobody around. Just me. And Scooter. I don’t know what I thought about. I don’t know what thoughts coursed through my mind except for the initial reassurances I gave myself that I would not die in the desert.

I sat in complete silence. I smoked cigarettes. I took small sips from the warm water that I had from the morning.

The trip eventually ended, of course, and I found myself in LA, at the Marriot where hundreds upon hundreds of other brats would be spending their weekend. The place where I would be spending my weekend.

I was welcomed, literally, the moment I passed through the front sliding door. Another brat, Cheryl, was there waiting for me. And then another greeted me.

Questions. Worry. Concern. Happiness. Elation.

Emotions.

It was good to see old friends.

Many more times during the day and into the night, I would be welcomed in shock and awe and the questions would come. The conversations would eventually turn, but they all started in a similar fashion. People I did not even know throughout the weekend would approach me to talk to me about the trip. At some point during that first night (and I can’t recall when or with whom I was talking with), I broke down. They had asked me a question about the journey. And the reality of everything that had come before… the reality of what I had done, where I had been, what had transpired, the utter and complete aloneness of it all… and NOW to be in the midst of all of this… It was too much to bear.

Even now it’s hard to think about it. About the endless solitude that swallowed me whole for weeks on end. Druing this conversation and in a few that followed that evening, I tried hard to hold back from just a complete meltdown on the spot. I realized at that moment, how out of place I was at this reunion. How I wish I had shown up a few days earlier just to get acclimated to being around people again before I was in the midst of such intense… intense love.

It was so difficult for me this time around. I missed this reunion. I was physically there. But I wasn’t there. I couldn’t be myself because I didn’t even know who I was beyond campgrounds, a quart of oil, a backpack weighted properly or improperly, a milk crate with books, crappy motels, deserted towns, sunsets, laundry, strangers in gas stations, and … and Scooter.

Scooter. My only friend. My friend who brought me to this place. The two of us.

This was all I knew. This was my life. This was who I was.

I mingled throughout the weekend. I tried to catch up with people I knew and many I didn’t. I socialized the best I could. But I wasn’t there. Saturday night was our class dinner. I had one beer. I went back to the hotel before the party ended and I went to sleep. And then Sunday came.

Sunday was the party bus. Sunday terrified me because I didn’t know what to do. I should go on the bus. It would be normal to go on the bus and completely preposterous not to.

I didn’t go on the bus.

And the minute the bus left, I regretted it. Fifty of my classmates from all across the world had gathered here for this reunion and they were all on that bus. And rather than take that opportunity to enjoy every single moment with these dear friends, I ran.

When the banquet came on Sunday night, I felt no better about my place, mentally and physically. I knew this was foolishness but I could not, no matter how deeply I dug, find this affair within me. And then it washed over me. There it was. I don’t know what, if anything set it off. It was then that I saw the brats I knew and loved. It was then that I saw my friends, my family. And once more, I was connected. This was it. This was everything I knew. This was why I had come.

I drank, I danced, I sang.

And while it was only that night, it was a memory that I won’t forget. I had crossed the country for that moment. Just that one moment in time. And should you ask…

Yes. It was worth it.

Photos here. (Although I’ve already put up the photos from the reunion on Facebook, I have not yet added them here. I’ll be doing that this week.)

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

The first part of my trip is now over. Driving from South Beach to LA.

I’ll soon return to South Beach.

I’m in a bit of a weird place; I have work I NEED to do out here. And work I want to do. But I feel pulled to return.

I’m in a weird place with data. I have it. I’m missing applications. I can’t yet do everything that I could before. I’m terribly behind for having not had a computer for a number of days. Yesterday, I spent a large part of my day simply retrieving data, retrieving my life.

I want things to be normal. You know, as normal as they can be for me. It was a little weird, the reunion ending. I have a lot to say about the whole experience but I’m still just a little too discombobulated to pull everything together.

I need to figure out where I’m going tonight. I was thinking of going south to Laguna Beach before I come back up. I have stuff I need to do here on Friday, but until then, I don’t know where to go.

I’m trying to go through some of the last photos of the trip. It’s so Jimmy Hollywood that my laptop would die as soon as I got here and I would have no ending moment. No Fanfare of the Common Man.

Eh.

Received some interesting emails while I was incommunicado. I’ve been fortunate to know so many good people, have so many people that care.

For weeks now, I’ve sat on a book that I had intended to publish before my arrival here. One that a good friend has been kind enough to review for me. I haven’t released it yet. Still need to do that.

Still need to go through photos from the trip.
Still need to go through Jas’ photos.
Still need to go through photos from the reunion itself.
Still need to edit buttloads of video (with software I apparently need to find again).
Still need to, still need to, still need to…

It’s okay. Everything will be back to normal soon. And I’ll feel good about things. And then I’ll be on the road.

Oh.

Thank you. You. Thank you. For everything.

First, I would like to apologize to everyone. Or to anyone that has paid the slightest bit of attention in following me.

It is Sunday now, I have no computer. I am still in LA. I have not had access to nor read any email since arriving on Thursday. A friend of mine, a fellow brat, saved my hard drive but I haven’t seen it yet.

It’s unimportant.

Secondly…

I don’t have any answers for anyone. I don’t have any answers for myself. Many people have come up to me… many people have introduced me…”that’s the guy that took the scooter across the country.”

“Where are you going?”
“What will you do now?”
“Are you going to stay in LA?”
“Will you fly back?”
“Are you going back?”
“Was it hard?”

Was it hard. I’m finding now, that it is much harder to be here. I feel out of sorts. I feel as though I have been stranded on a desert island and instantly, I am in the midst of people with lives and families and friends and children and husbands and wives and three course meals and drinks and late nights and me passing out from exhaustion before the party started.

I feel as though I don’t belong. It is too much. Yet here I am, in a place where there is genuine love and warmth and caring and concern.

I am tired.

I keep telling people that I will stay here for a couple of weeks; that I have work with a girl I need to do. This is true. But I don’t know beyond that. I don’t know what my future holds now.

I don’t know where I am going. But it will certainly be with Scooter.

I would share photos I have taken. Photos I took driving from Joshua Tree to LA. Photos I’ve taken here in LA. Photos I’ve taken on borrowed memory cards. But no computer in site is recognizing any card.

A party bus just left, I believe. A tour of LA. I believe I missed it.

Tonight there is a banquet. I will be there. And then tomorrrow it ends. Tomorrow, it ends.

I don’t have any answers. People have asked me if I’ve had time to reflect on it. I have.

And I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I DO know that this is all over the place. And I’m sorry for that. I’m just out of it. Nothing is making sense to me. This world is really beyond my comprehension right now and I can’t piece it together coherently. I’m sorry.

And like I said, if you’ve sent me emails, I apologize. I can’t even get to them here as the passwords are on my salvaged hard drive somewhere in LA. But I’ve been thinking about everyone in my life. And what they’ve meant to me. I’ve thought a lot.

I’m sorry.

I am in Los Angeles. I made it.

This will be brief until I’m able to get back on later. The last three days (one in Joshua Tree National Park and the two days of driving that followed) have been… insane.

After arriving at the hotel here where 700+ other kids who grew up in Saudi would be spending the next three days, the first person I would see would be another brat from the class of 1960-something. Hugs, talks, more brats…

I spill a latte onto my laptop JUST as I finished downloading photos from the prior two days.

I don’t know if I can get it fixed. For those who would ask, yes, there was sugar in the coffee. Ten raw sugars.

I may see if I can get someone to look at it today.

But I guess the big news is that I’m here. I made it to LA. 35 days of traveling and I’m here.

I spent the night in Joshua Tree National Park. I have so many words, I don’t even know where to begin.

Photos here. Photos specifically of Joshua Tree National Park here.

(I’m to drive to LA today. Scooter is giving me troubles; cutting out on me regularly. I don’t know that I’m going to make it. I’m debating what to do right now. If I leave now, I’ll be there no earlier than 7pm, probably closer to 9pm. Or 10pm.)

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Day 31
Start – 8536.0 km
Finish – 8660.1 km
—————
124.1 km or 74.5 mi

Finally, FINALLY left the Phoenix/Mesa/Tempe/Glendale/Scottsdale area. I have to say… not feelin’ it. Everyone is always saying how great Phoenix is… yeah, just not feelin’ it. I’m sure there are lovely areas of each of these towns. I’m sure of it. Had I seen them, I’m sure I wouldn’t feel differently about the fact that I never want to live anywhere near Phoenix/Mesa/Tempe/Glendale/Scottsdale. Desert climate. And there is no large body of water anywhere near it.

I eventually got on the road, having spent the night in Tempe at a really crappy hotel. I keep staying in crappy hotels. There’s always something extra crappy about the one I stayed in that beat the previous. Last night’s was far and above the winner, though. But I’m a little ahead of myself.

The plan for Day 31 was to get to Alamo Lake State Park in the middle of nowhere. Didn’t make it. Just outside of Wickenburg, AZ, a highway patrolman pulls me over. I’m surprised. Get off Scooter and he informs me that the license plate is barely hanging on. I look. One of the zip-ties holding my license plate on had snapped. Fortunate that he caught it.

He then asks me where I’m heading. Mention that I’m going up 93 and then cutting over to Alamo Lake State Park. He tells me that’s a bad idea, taking that route. That the last 30 miles is a dirt and gravel road. I should, instead, head south to Wendham and then take the paved road up. That, of course, is not on the plan for the day. It adds another 20-30 miles to the drive. I’m tired.

I stop for a bite to eat in Wickenburg, decide that I will stay in town for the night. I find the hotel I’ll stay at and all of a sudden, it’s the old west. Saloons. Cocktail lounges. Outdoor mannequin cowboys. And cowgirls. It’s 1972 in the hotel.

Strange days.

Day 32
Start – 8660.1 km
Finish – 9040.6 km
—————
380.5 km or 228.3 mi

The next morning, I decide I’m going to finish the drive, destination: 29 Palms, California. I leave Wickenburg after snapping a few photos, drive through Salome, take a right in Hope, Arizona and head to Parker the last stop before reaching California. I am utterly convinced there are 100 times more flies than people in Hope, Arizona. And they all were where I decided to rest for a moment.

Got to Parker, rested. Went to the library to use some internet. The last day left me disconnected. Many times, I’ve enjoyed not being connected at all. But when you want a connection, are promised a connection, and then can’t GET a connection, it’s irritating. After the short stop in Parker, I got back on the road. Less than two miles away, and I had reached California. The final state.

It was a long stretch of nothing from Parker to 29 Palms; 110 miles, to be exact. Almost exactly at the halfway point, Scooter died. Nothing. No cars. At least the heat from Arizona was gone. It was cooler.

I sat and sat and sat. Lots of climbing on small hills and I had been pushing him hard. After about an hour, Scooter started up. I gave him a pat on the headlamp. He seemed happy.

Shortly after dark, we pulled into 29 Palms. The outskirts of town were weird. Destroyed, vacant shacks of homes. Zombie-land, I felt certain. I didn’t see any zombies. But I think I saw a coyote. Or possibly an oddly shaped dog.

I was tired. Really, really tired. No vacancy at the budget motels, so I stayed in one of those motels you always see in the crappy part of town and wonder who stays in them. I stay in them. It was a cottage. It smelled of Indian incense. Strong smell. Paint peeling off the walls. AC unit barely hanging onto the wall. No deadbolt. Stained floor, stained walls, stained bathroom counter. A rectangular metal box had somehow been squeezed into the bathroom; that was the shower. I watched some horrible tv and fell asleep in a hot room, not even attempting to fool with the ac unit.

Today is day 33. I am in Yucca Valley. I am staying here tonight. This will be my last night on this trip before I arrive tomorrow at my destination for this trip LA.

I’ve been here at this Starbucks a while now. All day mostly. Scooter cut out twice today coming here. That makes me a little nervous. I’m sure we’ll be fine, and tomorrow, I’ll be drinking Vodka and Cranberries in LA.

Photos here.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

I am in Parker, Arizona. It is scorching hot here. Records highs supposedly across AZ today. (And yes, I have lots of water and sunblock.)

I’ll be in California within the half-hour.

Tonight… tonight I will be in…

I am under 300 miles away from LA. I will have a full update either late tonight or tomorrow morning.