An aspiring writer's tiny existence in New York City while chasing a dream, and hoping that somehow this crazy, random thing called "life" all works out.
For sending inspiration and/or fanmail, please use: scottkurttila@hotmail.com
After driving all night and taking my photo at sunrise at the southern most point in the continental US, I set about my day. It turns out nothing is open in Key West at 6 a.m. Eventually, I found The Iguana and had breakfast but I couldn't charge my iPod or laptop. Mail Boxes, Etc. where my bike was waiting didn't open until 9. I figured I'd find a hotel. I drove to many, Banana Bay, etc. etc. I settled on The Fairfield by Marriott and "Jaclyn" from northern England gave me a discounted rate of $69.
I needed sleep so went and unpacked all of my things trying to figure out what I needed/didn't need to bring before taking a nap. There was a knock at the door. It was housekeeping. I had slept 17 minutes. I explained I just checked in. We went back and forth for 5 minutes and she understood. I went back to sleep among bike trailer parts, clothes, water bottles all spread out on the floor and bed. I slept deeply until there was another knock on the door. 22 minutes had gone by. It was my friendly housekeeper, wanting to make up the room. I explained one more time. I fell back asleep. 30 minutes later, there's a knock on the door. It's my housekeeper. We try one more time. I fall asleep again. 15 minutes later there is a knock on the door. It's "maintenance" for no reason whatsoever then to check up on me. I give up on sleep. It's noon.
I drive to Mail Boxes, Etc. and collect my bike, ship the crate back to Trey, the incredible guy who loaned me his case for a 12 pack of Redhook at the last minute through a mutual friend of ours, Mark Gustavson. Mark is another one of those guys who selflessly helped me by driving heavy furniture, etc. to everyone who bought items from me as I unloaded my belongings before moving out of my loft. Gregg's Greenlake Cycle also had shipped me the right size pair of "shells" for my hands. Considering I just went through a huge rain squall, I was going to need them after all. If you need anything "biking" hit Gregg's first. Plus, it's close to Starbucks, then again, what isn't?
I ship some stuff out that is unneeded and as I am trying to drive back to the highway, I find a sign shop. I figure I'll make a sign for my trailer saying "Key West -> San Diego" and it turns out the ladies in the shop hooked me up for free since one of them had a mother who is a breast cancer survivor. The signs turned out awesome and I also got a sheet of paper printed out with the business card sized signs on it. I went to Office Max and made several copies and cut them to hand out to people I meet. I then try to find the missing tool I need to reassemble my bike. Yes, the tool that airport security took. I realize that my bike lock combination sticker was inside the tool for safekeeping. Luckily, I somehow have the combination in a recessed brain cell and I'm able to open the lock without it. After driving in every direction but the right one, I finally find the bike shop and get my tool and a rearview mirror for my handle bars. I head back to the sign shop and pick up the signs then return to The Fairfield to pack.
I then spent the next several hours putting my bike together, the trailer together and organizing all of my things into "stuff sacks" for easily finding items. I spend an hour just trying to get the "Armadillo" tires on my rims. My knuckles are bloody. I find out the axl for hooking the trailer too is too long. I need a hacksaw, but now it's midnight. My pack weighs too much, I can't even hook the trailer to the bike, yet I remain undaunted.
I discover while unpacking/repacking that I've left the first map for my trip for the leg from St. Augustine westward somewhere at home. What is my deal? How does this stuff happen? I bring 20 pounds of too much gear but fail to bring the first map????? Luckily, St. Augustine is 649 miles up the easily navigated coast. While packing things up, I discover that Thrifty has provided me with a great map of Florida that I can use as a replacement. Somehow, I will make do and reach the Pacific. For some reason, I'm actually enjoying all the little snafu's and overcoming them. It's making my brain stretch once I get over the fact that no matter how hard I try to be perfectly organized, things keep trying to thwart me.
I had to return my rental car at 8 but drove around for almost two hours before finding Thrifty and meeting Tashina who I promised to mention here. I hope I spelled her name right. I pedal my bike for the first time and ride from Stock Island back to Key West. My speedometer battery is dead...but I'm pedaling. I eventually hit The Green Parrot Bar and meet Pat the night manager who toasts me with a Key West draft and takes a photo with me under the "No Sniveling" sign. The bar is full of real people, drunk, happy locals and it reminds me of the people I hung out with in Breckenridge, CO when I lived there. I drink a beer for Dave Schappell and one for myself before heading out to the Southern Most point again for a photo with the bike. I call Dave and his wife, Karen and laugh as we talk about how I've added 649.6 miles to my trip just because he told me I had to. I meet "Chire" from Leeds, England who was quietly sitting behind the large colorful marker at the point. She takes my photo for me and I give her a "card" so she can find this site. She seems sad and said she was trying to figure out how to get out of this place. I wish her luck and ride off then ride back to tell her that "she should probably head "north" as a joke. She smiles and I ride off again. I stop a police officer along the way and pull into several gas stations in search of a hacksaw to cut the axle off. No luck.
Once I'm back in the room, a light goes off in my head and I'm able to use a nut from my old axle as a spacer. It works for now but will still need to be cut at some point. It's 3:45 a.m. I decide to sleep a bit then take off. I wake up at 9 and here I am. The bike is loaded, I'm heading to the Southern Most point for the third time since I think I should carry the full weight from this point to San Diego. I'll stop by Mail Boxes, etc. and ship the beloved self-stabilizing binoculars home along with my old tires I was going to use as spares and a few other items. I also need to find a speedometer battery somewhere and a dash of breakfast. The 13th and what feels like a million roadblocks and last minute errands are now behind me. I'm more than ready to leave on this trip, overloaded or not. I leave my room, #211 (2+11=13!) and I step into the sunshine and am about to ride with all of my gear for the first time. I have five hours of good sleep in my tanks and a smile on my face. My socks are made by DeFeet which makes a line of embroidered "fun socks." Mine are the "survival of the fittest" model, embroidered with a happy little sperm. For some reason, I feel like this trip is about becoming a better person by overcoming adversity. No...make that many reasons. I am minutes from pedaling the first of many miles after a month long journey of revamping my life and preparing for this moment. Life is good.
THe 13th is living up to its name and the journey has started on a high note. While driving down highway 1, around 4:20 a.m. I pulleed over to load up on gatorade and fritos...electrolytes and salt...I pulled out of the Quik Mart where "Fabio" wished me good luck on my trip, drove about a mile and suddenly a car was in my trunk. Mind you, I'd been pissing motorists off since Ft. Lauderdale. I noticed that most every car seemed to be flashing their high beams at me the entire way. I couldn't figure it out because I hit the high beams, yes, they went "higher" of course and then I was back down on the low beams. So, the car in my trunk at this point was someone who flipped a U-turn after flashing me. Now I was in for it, I figured I'd just pull over and let him pass. I hesitated a moment while trying to put the cap back on my gatorade while driving with one knee, then I made my way to the side of the road. As I slowed to a stop, Mr. Trunk pulled in right behind me. Blue and red lights flash. Enter one Sherrif Duncan, a spot on movie sherrif persona in the flesh complete with bulging muscles and a short cropped haircut. I took out my license and then grabbed the rental car agreement from my bag on the front seat. He startled me from the left while I was looking out to my right for him to approach.
He calmly explained that I failed to dim my lights and then I was weaving all over the road. Damn right I was weaving, I thought I was being run off the road. I didn't say this of course. In any case, Thrifty's little convertible seems to have an issue with the low beams aimed wrong or something and I had to endure pissing off every motorist from Ft. Lauderdale to Key West who approached me heading North. Sherrif Duncan was kind enough to get my trip started on the right foot by politely handing me an $81 citation for failing to maintain my lane. He was kind enough to offer an apology too in light of my story of what I was en route to do. It turns out, he's also a fly fishing guide for Tarpon and Bonefish. I might try an dlook him up at some point down the road to go on a guided trip just for kicks when I return in January for New Year's.
I thank Sherrif Duncan for giving me something to write about and I drive off while looking for my wallet to put my license back. Huh...I can't find it. Weird. I pull over again and walk back to where I was parked. He climbs out of his car...
"What NOW?" he asks.
"Lost my wallet..."
"Geez, that's no good."
"Do you have a flashlight?" followed by a quick "aaah...here it is..." as I spy it right where my car was parked. It must've fallen off my lap when I got out to stretch. It had a nice set of tire marks across it which make me chuckle that not only did I drop it, I drove over it for good measure. Oh yea, this trip is going to rock.
Now I sit at the Southern Most point in continental America in Key West. The sun is rising in the east, I'm 90 miles from Cuba and Fidel Castro. It's 618 a.m. and the locals keep showing up to "get their minds right" for the day. Every one says good morning. It IS a good morning. November 13...thousands of miles, many hours, late departures, too much packing, too little sleep, missed flights, confiscated tools, and one citation later and I'm ready to go and find some breakfast and a motel room to assemble my trailer. Mail Boxes, Etc. Open at 8 and I'll be able to retrieve my bike which I've decided to name "Sisu" which is Finnish for "guts" or "determination." I thought about naming my bike "Dorothy" after my late grandmother, but somehow it just didn't seem right to "ride grandma across America." Yes, Sisu is a much better name. The trailer of course is "Bob" since that what the manufacturer named it. When I'm angry with it, I'll call it "Robert" much the way a parent will address an offspring sternly.
Yea, I'm losing it. I've just gone another 19 hours without sleep with an hour ride to the airport, an hour of security hassles and about six hours of driving until I arrived just before this incredible sunrise. Photo time. Yes, I will post them evenutally. Still gotta figure that part out some night while in a motel. Okay, enough for now. It's time to order some eggs somewhere now that all the roosters of Key West are crowing. The opening ceremonies are over and the main events are about to commence.
Okay, so while I love NYC, I really don't like airport security at JFK. Excuse my french, but shit. What the hell. So, first, I have to put my bike trailer box through a pre-check thing. They have to open it. Slooooowly. I'm running late due to traffic. They scan the whole thing then go to tape it back up. Oops...no tape. Anywhere. I have to wait for my bag. FInally, tape shows up. I race to the next security check point. Everyone is just standing. Why? Because it was the dinner break and there is a shift change. At least that was the explanation.
Next, they only let one person through at a time. Totally tear apart their carry on, Check through it for 10 minutes, take out every item. Scan the person again, shoes off, etc. Once the person is all clear, shoes back on, the next person can come through the little doorway but not until the first person clears out. I of course am doing the best
I can not to just go nuts because I'm about 7 minutes from my flight taking off after the initial delays.
So, they get to my stuff. It's got to be opened. They pull everything out. They find a bike tool that gave me issues in Seattle. I don't know why I didn't get it into my checked bag but I figured after Seattle where I took the bolt out and removed the knife blade that it would be all good.
"Not tools, sir. Is this a tool?"
I should've said, it's a puzzle but I affirmed that it was a bike tool.
"You'll have to go back to the front desk and check it through sir."
"Just throw it away! I'm going to miss my friggin' flight! I don't care! Toss it! FINE!!" I'm a bit surprised that I'm actually perturbed but I refuse to miss this flight. I want to see palm trees.
"Sir, is this a tool?" She pulls out three plastic tire irons for changing bike tires. I should've said they were stir sticks but I said they were tire irons. Then she gets into an argument with the other security guard on whether or not they were okay because they were plastic. I just tell them to throw them away and let me go. I gather my stuff and race off and make the door just as it's closing...somehow.
I'm better once I'm on the plane. I think I've just had enough of delays and so I wasn't quite my calm self. Hhmmm..it's okay, I'm allowed some frustration now and then. I setttle in and listen to Eminem, Creed and Britney Spears on my iPod. Then I catch some direct TV in the seatback on Jetblue. I see cops and a drive by shooting victim in the deep south. Great...I picture my yellow jersey becoming target practice for some yokel with a 12 guage.
I pull out "Into The Woods" by Bill Bryson and finish the last 60 pages. It feels good to read about his hike through the Appalachian Trail. I figure I can write my own book after this. I think at least 2 people will buy it...including my dog, of course.
I land in Ft. Lauderdale, proceed to Thrifty car rental, upgrade from the Neon to a convertible for an extra $20. I step outside to catch the rental car shuttle. I'm blasted by 90 degrees and humidity. I'm in thick canvas pants and a north face jacket after facing the rain in New York. I get the convertible, take the top down and scream as I head to I-95. The on ramp is a hairpin 90 degree hard left out of nowhere and I squeal the tires and slide sideways narrowly missing a guard rail just 15 minutes after declining insurance at the check out counter. I head to one of my favorite places with the radio blaring: South Beach Miami!!!! PALM TREES!!!!! I race past "Mr. Bidet...for a clean and healthy tush!" no lie...a big sign adorns a wall along I-95. Miami Beach! I drive the length of Indian Creek Parkway and Collins Ave. I hit Portofino Towers and loop back up Ocean Drive, soaking in all my favorite little sights along the way. I now sit at Cafe Milano eating a Tira Misu, sippng Lemoncello and capping it off with a double espresso. It's 20 to midnight, east coast. A fifteen foot high sand-castle sits on the beach in front of me while beautiful people, drug dealers and tourists walk behind me.
In a few minutes, I will stroll out to the waves and touch the water as Orion looks down on me from the night sky. I will then grab the wheel and race down the Florida Turnpike for two hours to Key West. I am mere hours away. Palms gently wave over me...and my mind and heart are filled with one thought...THIS is what I'm MEANT to do. I feel alive. I feel like I have purpose. I don't know why, but I feel like I'm supposed to do this crazy stuff and write about it. I picture finishing a book after all this and selling my two copies and collecting $1.00 in royalties which I spend on a vanilla ice cream cone to share with AxL my dog. I tried the corporate thing. I tried the "American Dream." I tried the 401k, the dental plan, the works. I know I may end up back there again...but dear God I'm going to try and avoid it at all costs by following this passion for the next 30 days to see where this all ends up. Yea, I'll always want to work in some form. I love working...I just can't do a "daily grind" ever again. I need to be a little fish, in a big river...not a little fish in a sterile, corporate bowl.
Aaah...time to touch the palm trees...feel the sand between my toes and hear the surf in my ears.
Some notes on NYC...people aren't so bad
Luckily, with the help of friends that was far beyond the call of duty, I made my flight with minutes to spare. One friend, Katie was over the top. She helped for countless hours packing boxes, hauling garbage, listening to me freaking out that I would never make it. She cut her hand twice on a glass picture frame, she worked an entire day with nothing to eat or drink because I didn't have anything to eat or drink. I feel like a schmuck. I never really see this person nor have I ever done anything of any substance for her as a friend, yet, she took an entire day out of her life to do hard physical labor for me. I didn't even have to ask...she just stayed and helped. I feel like there's nothing I could do to give back what she gave. Erin and Leigh came by with food and got roped into helping pack and haul stuff about. And Erin came back again the next day for more by taking a huge box to Goodwill...Then there's my buddy Trip. He drove over and carried countless heavy boxes of books out and up a ladder to a small storage area. Then there's Lance, who took time out from his family to let me store a few things in a locker in his warehouse. Then Patti...who got up from knitting on a quiet sunday to help me and Katie carry my "heavy items" in the dark, to her back garage while it rained on her. All these selfless people helping out this selfish guy who doesn't really deserve it. Then Mack and Tina showed up and helped pack my bag with all the items needed for the ride after helping me load the last few boxes up a ladder to a small storage area. Mack assisted despite a separated shoulder. Then they drove me to the airport. Meanwhile, my other friend Neil is looking after my car for a month. And of course, there's Micaela who is taking care of my best friend, Mr. Axl the World's greatest dog. God Bless you for keeping that little guy safe...bad breath and all! Tom Schonhoff...your contributions to my life and this trip are immeasurable in terms of friendship, advice, encouragement, gifts that inspire, etc. Lastly, Simon who is subleasing my place was left with a bit of my oversights to clean up. Sorry, Simon...but thank you...and thank you for subleasing my place, giving my plants and fish a home, etc. Somehow, I need to find a way to give back to all of these people...but for now, all I can do is offer heartfelt thank you's because I wouldn't have made my flight without them. When all is said and done, I could write a book about the incredible friends I have.
I left a few things undone, didn't get to see my sister to say goodbye, etc. but I'll be back soon enough. I flew to New York having had only two hours of sleep on Friday night, two hours of sleep on Saturday night. I couldn't sleep on the flight however so I just read the whole way. I arrived early in the morning which was about 3 a.m. my time. Then I went to a restaraunt consulting job I had lined up for the day. I spent the evening relaxing, cutting tags off every item to save weight, taking out unneeded stuff I packed at the last minute. I had slept for 5 hours since Thursday night...by adding a one hour nap yesterday evening. I tried taking care of loose ends and had one hour until my early morning flight today. I made the mistake of lying down for "5 minutes" which turned into a 7 hour coma and I missed my flight. I called the airline and am able to go standby now and leave in 20 minutes. Ft Lauderdale and my rental car that will take me to Key West await me.
I'll get my bike that I shipped to Mail Boxes, Etc. in Key West in the morning, assemble and hook on the B.O.B. trailer I pack up tonight and I'm off after sucking back a beer for me and one for Dave Schappel who has caused me to add 649.6 miles to the trip by telling me to start at The Green Parrot. For all of you equipment list junkies, I'll be updating the exact items I'm bringing along this evening as there have been some last minute additions and deletions to the final list.
One thing I need to note at this point is that this has taken a lot longer than I expected. I thought I would be pedaling on October 31 or Nov 1 and now I will take my first turns of the wheels on November 13 from Key West. Fitting that I begin on the 13th. I'm looking forward to some wild adventures and the worse they are, the better it will be as that's the stuff that will be fun to write about. The near death experiences, the crazy kooks who try to run me off the road, the horrific weather, the bad spills, the broken parts, etc. If this goes smoothly, I'll be shocked and somewhat dismayed. Life is worthwhile when you overcome the obstacles. I'm not here for a cakewalk. I'm here to pick up some experience, some battle scars, some character.
Florida, ready or not, here I come!