3 days. 1 return voyage LA>Flagstaff. 5 hours of sleep. 3 10
minute naps [RPP](random public passouts) 1.5 gallons coffee. 12 hours
straight trying to get from Barstow to LA. 1 lifesaving call from mum. 3
pouches of deep fried potatoes. A whole grip of lifesaving calls and
comments from dad, Aunt, Uncle, friends, and associated
strangers(friends).
Since I was stranded in Barstow. AKA Armpit. I decided that all people in Southern California are evil. Common thoughts among the hitch hikers of our lovely country that watch the millions drive on by with empty seats afraid of nothing but themselves. I tried and failed to board a 4 am Amtrak. I had some intense emotional trips about being 2 hours away from missing my everything to Brazil. Jumped on the most expensive cab ride of my life straight to the Brazilian consulate. Because sometimes its time to live the high life. While retaining the low life. On time. In LA. My sentence awaits: not going. Luckily the postcard game and a certain super rad picture made our desk assistant smile. The visa that was not allowed will be processed by Monday. We are going to Brazil. Still. On Monday. Which still left me stuck and another ridiculous plethora of walking, bussing, skating (and falling)(bleeding)(sorryjoshtheresaholeinmyfavoritepants) and 5 hours before I finally and deliriously got to Casa Stella. To sleep.
Since I was stranded in Barstow. AKA Armpit. I decided that all people in Southern California are evil. Common thoughts among the hitch hikers of our lovely country that watch the millions drive on by with empty seats afraid of nothing but themselves. I tried and failed to board a 4 am Amtrak. I had some intense emotional trips about being 2 hours away from missing my everything to Brazil. Jumped on the most expensive cab ride of my life straight to the Brazilian consulate. Because sometimes its time to live the high life. While retaining the low life. On time. In LA. My sentence awaits: not going. Luckily the postcard game and a certain super rad picture made our desk assistant smile. The visa that was not allowed will be processed by Monday. We are going to Brazil. Still. On Monday. Which still left me stuck and another ridiculous plethora of walking, bussing, skating (and falling)(bleeding)(sorryjoshtheresaholeinmyfavoritepants) and 5 hours before I finally and deliriously got to Casa Stella. To sleep.
