I’ve stacked up a lot of articles I’ve read or wanted to read over the past five years. I’m going back through and revisiting most of ‘em. What I’m reading right now:
The Short: It’s Only An Island If You Look At It From The Water by Elizabeth Cantwell
The Long: Solitude and Leadership by William Deresiewicz
(I’m on a road trip across the U.S. These will be snippets from that drive.)
Covid made me quite good at being alone.
Streaming Netflix by myself, working by myself, reading by myself, cooking for myself — when I write it out like this it comes off as sort of sad and lonely, but in reality, I loved almost all of it. I devoted myself to my job, working out more, watching all the movies and shows I’d been meaning to watch, some for nearly a decade (Avatar: The Last Airbender was very much worth the wait). I’ve always placed a premium on being alone; i think it’s important to be alone with your thoughts, process the day, recharge. Covid forced me to ensure that happened more than any other time in my life.
I think that was in part why I wanted to do this cross-country road trip. In many ways the Covid lifestyle has evaporated — I’m making plans on the weekend to see friends, family, go to bars and restaurants. With this trip, there’d be a ton of time in the car, alone, or in a hotel, alone, where I’d resort back to that familiar comfort of being by myself. Only this time I’d be alone in Yellowstone or looking out across the Atlantic or exploring the streets of Portland, Minneapolis, New York, Austin, and on and on...solo. Just me, save for a few outlier days.
What’s taken me most by surprise, then, just over a week into the trip, is the companionship I’ve found from both new and old faces.
It started at Crater Lake. Roughly 800 miles from my starting point of San Francisco, I expected to be in and out of the National Park within a couple hours. If you were to ask me, before I set foot in the park, how many people I’d expect to see I’d have guessed ten, maybe twenty max. And I would’ve been right..
But two of those people were one of my oldest friends and her husband, who I ran into about one hundred yards into my hike. We caught up briefly — they were just finishing Garfield Trail as I was starting up it, and then they mentioned that they, too, were heading to Bend for a couple days.
“Let’s grab a beer tonight,” my friend said.
“I’d love to, but I don’t wanna intrude on your couple’s weekend.”
This began the usual playful haggle before ultimately promising we’d meet up. In the moment I didn’t know if they meant it. Or if I meant it.
(Crater Lake is prettttty dope)
Don’t get me wrong, I love them both — their wedding two years ago was an all-timer that ended with dancing around a fire pit on the beach until 3 a.m. — but I legitimately didn’t want to intrude on their couple’s weekend. They had only a few precious days away from the hustle and bustle of life in San Francisco — the routine, the typical life stresses, the grind.
Did they really wanna spend their weekend with someone they saw once every couple years?
To my friend’s credit, she shot me a text a few hours later (I tell myself I would’ve too) and we met up at a bar called Crosscut for pizza, beer, and live music.
And it was an absolute blast. So fun, in fact, that we met up again the next night at a Bavarian place that overlooked the Deschutes. Over beers, brats, and schnitzel we reminisced on practically every era of our lives: their wedding; old high school friends; we even went as far back as middle school, reciting each others phone numbers from memory since it was back when you only had like six friends with a cell phone.
It’s funny — my friend and I walked home every day together in middle school, I went to their wedding, we live maybe a mile from each other in the city — and yet, it takes traveling to the middle of Oregon for us to coordinate grabbing beers.
I’d forgotten that traveling does that to you. It naturally makes you more gregarious, pushes you out of your comfort zone. And thanks to travel, that friendship has been restrengthened. We have another, more recent experience together.
(Beers by the Deschutes)
When I said goodbye to the couple in Bend, I was headed to Portland to meet up with another friend — one who I hadn’t really kept in touch with since high school. And we had a great, drunken weekend together. Beer tour, Portland Timbers game, hung out with his girlfriend. Another experience, another restrengthened friendship.
And then it happened again in Seattle, with an old college buddy.
And then again at my hotel bar, where I met two Canadians in town for the weekend. They weren’t old friends of mine before that night, per se, but we bought each other enough rounds that I’d say we became tight.
When was the last time I’d met random people at a bar that became friends?
To rewind a bit: for me, it is seriously important to be comfortable spending time alone. I love holing up in my dark apartment, throwing on a scary movie, Postmating a fried chicken sandwich and calling it a Friday night. In order to get through Covid I had to love doing that. It’s a natural need for any introvert.
Over the last 19 months I’d forgotten many of the joys of travel. Over the next few months, I’ll experience the National Parks I’ve always wanted to see, go to Michigan Stadium and watch a football game with 110,000 other people, and I’ll stay with my family and best friends at their houses.
But I knew I was gonna enjoy all of those things.
What I’d forgotten were the random encounters, the texts you send to friends you haven’t seen in years, telling them you’re gonna be in their state, and do they wanna hang out? Or the thrill of being uncomfortable at a bar, not knowing anyone, and yet making friends anyway.
These experiences aren’t unique to traveling, but travel (especially solo) forces you into the unfamiliar. When I enter into a situation with some degree of uncertainty — whether it be the city I’m in, the people I’m with, or maybe a new card game someone taught me — it’s invigorating in a way a typical night out isn’t.
It’s also fun to revisit friendships. An experience in another place adds a layer of depth and comfort that’s much more difficult to attain if it were to happen at the local watering hole. Because of travel, when I get back to the city I have another couple friends to hit up and shoot the shit with. And, odds are, I’m not even gonna have to look up their phone number.
(I’m gonna be writing these every week or so as I continue to travel. Smash that subscribe button if this one didn’t suck and you’d like to receive them in your inbox)
BLESSED to run into you & have that time. 🧡so glad you got this going. I’ve been wondering what kind of #conversationsinaprius you’ve been having with yourself in between Loveline episodes 🍻excited for more!