Nowhere to Go But Everywhere

A couple/eighteen years ago, I graduated from a Big Ten University with Distinction (whatever that means) and a degree in journalism.  And I had no idea what to do with myself.  Thanks to several unpaid internships, I had garnered experience in magazines, newspapers and television news, but I didn’t feel especially called to pursue a career in any of them at the time.  I loved books and possessed a vague sort of idea about working for a book publisher.  I did not know, and no one told me (or maybe I just didn’t ask), that I didn’t have a chance in heck of landing a job in publishing unless I moved to New York.  Unsurprisingly, the sad little unsolicited cover letters I sent to the major publishing houses went unanswered.  And graduation had the nerve to come anyway.

So I did what any sensible person would do and embarked on a three-month cross-country road trip with my Shih Tzu.  I had a plan of sorts.  If by “plan” you mean I intended to roughly outline the borders of our great country and try to hit some national parks along the way.

I was directionless, in every sense of the word.

But that didn’t stop me. I packed my Saturn with a 2-man tent, a sleeping bag, some dog food, a bag of clothes, a journal and a Rand McNally road atlas, and off I went.  Yes, you read that right.  A road atlas.  This was before GPS came standard, before phones were smart. When I wanted to figure out where to go, I looked at a map. In a book.  For real. (Side Note: I feel like sending folks off on a road trip without electronic devices would make for a great reality game show  in 2019. You don’t have to compete in any challenges, but you do have to read a map! Hilarity would surely ensue.)

I took off from Wisconsin and headed west.  I drove 8 hours that first day, eager to put enough distance between myself and my starting point that I would feel as though my trip had officially started.  Eight hours happened to land me in Fargo, North Dakota.  Now, folks, I don’t have anything against Fargo.  But, at the same time, I couldn’t help wondering…what in the hell was I doing there?  Why hadn’t I tried a little harder to secure a post-graduation job and just get started with my life?  Why was I about to wander around the country aimlessly?  What was I thinking?!?!

I spent most of my trip camping, but I occasionally stayed in a cheap motel, when the weather or circumstances warranted.  That first night, due to the long drive and my impending breakdown, I chose the cheap motel. So I spent the first evening of my road trip crying into my gas-station nachos at a $29 dump in Fargo.  Not the most auspicious start.

It was all uphill from there, though.  I moved on to Mount Rushmore and then Big Sky Country.  I found my groove. I explored Washington State.  I enjoyed a leisurely trip down the West Coast, stopping to take pictures of my 8-pound dog next to the Giant Redwoods.

Sometimes I stayed with family.  Sometimes I met interesting characters at campgrounds.  Sometimes it was just me and Cricket (the dog).  I oohed and awed at the Grand Canyon.  I looked up an old friend who spontaneously decided to join me for part of my trip.  Together, we checked out the Big Easy and traveled the Florida Panhandle. We rode scooters in the Keys and made a stop in Daytona to get tattoos.  Mine was supposedly a tribal symbol for humility and learning.  Somehow I doubt that is the case.  Oh well.  Live and learn – and learn to live with the black ink blob on your ankle.

We continued our adventure on the East Coast, finally making it to Maine and the easternmost point of the contiguous United States.

Then the leaves started to change and the money ran out, signaling the end of the road for the road trip.

These days, if I tell people about my epic journey, they look at me in disbelief.  It’s actually a tad insulting – have I really become that dull and predictable? But, in all fairness, I can hardly even picture myself traipsing around the country in a plastic car with a tiny dog – and I was there. It was somewhat nuts. Yet, despite my initial doubts, the trip turned out to be one of the most pivotal and significant times of my life, and I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t turn around and hightail it home after that first night in Fargo.  After all, when would I ever be so unencumbered again? When would I ever get another chance to travel so freely? I ended up with some great memories, and the road trip affected the trajectory of my life.  If I hadn’t gone on the trip, I might never have ended up living in San Diego afterwards (another story, for another time). If I hadn’t hated San Diego so much, I never would have aimed to get as far away as possible from it when I applied to law school. If I hadn’t chosen NYU for law school, the hiring partner at my first law firm, who was also an NYU alum, might not have brought me on.  And if I hadn’t gotten that first job in Milwaukee, I might never have been re-introduced to Dan.  And that, my friends, is the end game.  No Dan, no Baylor and no Ryan.  No current life as I know it at all.

(Plus, thanks to separate vacations to Alaska and Hawaii, I can now say I have visited all 50 states.  That little tidbit comes in quite useful when I am forced to offer an interesting fact about myself at corporate retreats. Bonus.)