"Duck, duck, duck.... GOOSE!" A man with fake legs, who intelligently sat in the back of the bus, slowly made his way forward patting everyone on the head, and choosing me to be the goose on his way to talk to the bus driver.
"Sit dowrn! Dorn't tawlk to whiwe I'm dwiwing! Gor sit dowrn! Gor arway!"
"I need you to go fast. I have a doctors appointment that I can't miss. We need to get there faster. I cant miss my doctors appointment!"
"Sit dowrn! Dorn't tawlk to me!"
The majority of my three and a half hour bus ride through the Sierra Nevada consisted of a huge bickerment between Hippy Dippy No-legs and Happy Polynesian Bus Driver.
"Fuck you! I want to be dropped off. I'll get a taxi. This is stupid. I need to get to my doctor, asshole."
For a minute, I didn't blame Hippy Dippy. When has Amtrak EVER been on time? When can anyone EVER count on Amtrak leaving when they're scheduled to, or not making an unannounced twenty minute pit stop in the middle of nowhere for some unknown reason.
They're probably delivering drugs or something. I'm convinced.
Besides, Hippy Dippy can't drive himself! He has no legs!
But I do blame Hippy Dippy. If he would just sit dowrn there could be some siwence, and I could crowse my eyes and srweep. If I can't close my eyes and sleep I swear I'm going to vomit on these electric blue seats.
But I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't vomit. I'm certain the seats were firmly stuffed with cardboard, and not cotton. Perhaps they were stuffed with cardboard containing the drugs for their next unannounced pit stop. Probably.
I wanted so badly to get off of this bus, but arriving closer to San Wuis Obispowr I started to second guess that desire. It was raining outside, and It was getting chillier, and I had nowhere to go.
This is NOT what the coast of California is supposed to feel like.
I was greeted off the bus by Happy Polynesian Bus Driver who was apparently missing some teeth (too many drugs?), and I was blanketed in a cold, wet rain, making my already-heavy pack on my back even heavier.
I had everything I owned on my back. I had a tambourine and a banjolele hanging from it. I had hiking shoes and climbing shoes tied to it. I had crafty things shoved inside, and a sleeping bag and sleeping pad strapped to the bottom. All the clothes I might need for cold or hot weather were nearly vacuum-packed inside to fit. That that was just on my back. On the front of me was my other backpack. It had my ancient computer in it, and probably some more things I didn't need.
Walking was tough.
Walking in the rain was miserable.
I had to get that out of my mind and focus on finding free wifi at a cafe. I had a couple dollars left, and coffee sounded like therapy for my entire life at that point. I needed coffee, and I needed to get back on couchsurfing so I didnt have to sleep outside in the rain.
I'm convinced the heavens above sent down Sally Loo's cafe, and filled the inside with angels. That cafe was the first thing I saw when I got out of the Amtrak station, and they even had free wifi.
Greeting the Sally Loo was more than a little awkward, though. Everyone inside were cool costal hipsters. They were comfortable, they were probably drinking organic herbal tea, and they simultaneously took a quick break from writing their papers so they could all look up and stare at me when I walked in.
It felt like chaos outside in the rain carry 75lbs of my life. I swung that door open so hard, and stepped in sopping wet with a huge (loud) sigh of relief, then found myself looking up at the quiet hipsters staring at me wide-eyed.
Quickly they went back to business, and quickly I waddled over to the corner. I could barely fit through the doorway. My stuff was sprawled out all over the floor while I was searching for my computer cord which doubled as my life-line at this point.
I didn't even get my computer turned on yet and I was being surrounded.
"I see climbing shoes. Do you climb?"
"Hey, where are you from?"
"Wow, that's a lot of stuff."
"You're coming from the Amtrak station, aren't you?"
Now I was the one staring wide-eyed. The owner (who I didn't know was the owner at the time) even came up to me to make sure I had a place to sit and could get on the internet.
"Do you need anything?"
"Yes. I'm trying to find a place to sleep tonight. I don't really know anyone here, and I just need to get one the computer to find a couchsurfer."
They would not stop talking to me, and I needed to find a place to stay before it got dark. I was getting really annoyed with Matt, especially.
Matt was in his mid-forties. Apparently he was a climber in his day, because he insisted on interrupting everything I said, and did with a question or remark about climbing, often responding to me with, "trippy".
"Where do you climb?" He inches forward in his seat.
"Are you here to climb?" He moves to a closer seat.
"You know, there's a good gym around here. I used to climb a lot, until I got injured." He moves to the seat next to me, pulls out is puppy-dog eyes, and pulled up his shirt to show me the hard brace enveloping his entire torso. Bike accident. Four months ago.
Oh. My. Gosh. These people don't understand the urgency of my time right now. Shut up. All of you. But, of course, I'm a people pleaser and it's incredibly hard for me to show my bad-to-the-bone self sometimes, so I begrudgingly smiled, and gave him his much needed sympathy.
"I'm a really active person. I climbed with a lot of big climbers. But now I can't do much for myself. I met my girlfriend in the hospital during therapy. She helps me bath and take care of myself, now, until I can start doing more things for myself again. Why don't I give her a text and see if she knows of anywhere you can stay?"
Now we're talking. Let's make use of this conversation time.
"You're name's Sarah! That's my girlfriend's name!"
This fact will soon become strange.
Finally the people at the cafe team up in an effort to find me somewhere to sleep. Matt has all sorts of ideas for me, and he's networking for me in between his pathetic, and obvious need for me to give him sympathy.
I was kind of relieved when Matt got up to get a re-fill on his coffee. I wasn't sure if his networking was going to amount to anything with him being on all kinds of medications. He didn't mention medications, but he didn't need to. He was "trippy, man".
Matt returned too quickly.
"Hey, you should go up to the counter and talk to Casey. I just was telling him about you and he said you could sleep at his place tonight. He works here."
What? Huh? Really? What? Was it that easy? Matt? My new best friend, Matt? Really?
Of course I was still a bit weirded out. Hey, go talk to this guy you don't know because I, a guy you also don't know, was talking about you, and you can sleep at guy-you-don't-know's place. But being desperate for adventure will make you do crazy things, like jumping in a car with a psychotic woman, or sleep at a strangers house. No one can be as bad as Lisa, though, so sleeping at Casey's can't be all bad. And I got up to talk to him.
Uh, which one is Casey? There's so many people here. This is really awkward. What if he never really said that to Matt? Matt's tripping. Oh gosh.
I asked with a shaky voice, "Um, Hi. I'm looking for Casey. Matt over there, he said that..."
"Hey, you're Sarah! Nice to meet you. Here's my address," he wrote it down for me on the back of receipt paper, "My house is three houses down from here. No one is home, but it's not locked. Feel free to hang out there. I get off work at five."
It has been so long since I've been given the privilege of talking with down-to-earth people. Casey was my breath of fresh San Luis Obispo air. For the first time in awhile I felt really comfortable. Someone who trusts me enough to go into his house without him there must be a trustworthy person himself. Which he was.
I found Casey's house and finally got to rid myself of my 75lb soaking wet life, and explore now-sunny San Luis Obispo. So far, this place is freaking awesome...
