I had a realization last night around 4am while I drunkenly walked to Taco Bus for some late night pollo verde tacos; I have only been sharing the most glamorous aspects of my life in this blog. Well, it’s time to right the ship.
One of my goals before I jettison myself from Tampa for good is to eat Taco Bus at least once a day until April 16. Well, it was a goal. My bowels are sending me strong signals that while this goal may be attainable with a lot of perseverance, it is something better left unattained. I have been walking there from my house in the ghetto late, late at night for hangover medicine, though. They are usually open 24 hours, which is their major draw (and draw back). When do they clean things if they never close? I’ll never know, but my bowels have a theory…
I live near Nebraska Ave in Tampa until I leave, and the best thing about that is its proximity to Taco Bus. I can walk there in nine minutes. The second best thing about it is how often and how late the bus runs. The third best … well, if you like drug-addicted, transgendered prostitutes then maybe that’s number one and the others are number two and three, respectively. Sometimes people’s bodies are found within blocks of where I sleep. Hookers, murder, busses, and tacos. That’s urban life for ya.
Also – I’ve been tooting my horn about an upcoming distance hike. Well, it turns out that is quite impossible. I have this rather permanent back injury I sustained back in December when my whole body splatted on some guy’s windshield like a bug. I was riding my (now mangled) bicycle home from work, like I had done every night since June, when this guy decided to beat a yellow light and plow straight through me in an intersection. Shit! Needless to say (is it needless?) it fucked me up pretty good and now I walk everywhere.
So I am not yet (ever?) capable of lugging 30-40 pounds of gear and food on my back for days on end, or even hours. Hell, I get all cramped up walking around my restaurant carrying 1 pound plates. So the romantic dream of hiking off into the wilderness of the Pacific North West must remain a dream. Maybe I’ll do a long series of day hikes, also known as ‘walks.’ Maybe I’ll find a nice spot in the woods and stay there for a month, greeting hikers as they pass through. Maybe I’ll just move to Seattle sooner and get another job slinging sushi and start paying rent again. Who knows?
Anyway, I drink a lot after work then eat tacos from a dirty 24 hour taco joint, then crap it all out an hour later, then pass out in the spare bedroom of my friend’s ghetto neighborhood apartment, then ride a bus full of people much more down on their luck than I’ve ever been (and I’ve pissed myself as an adult before), then walk around a restaurant serving drinks and sushi, then do it all again. That isn’t glamour. I don’t meet awesome strangers on the bus every day. Usually I just stare out the window and hold my nose until the guy in front of me, who also pisses himself as an adult, gets off the bus. Don’t be jealous.