Raise the roofie

Why do people seem to think I am such an easy target? I think I have you all fooled... I am not an easy target. I seem nice and naive, but I know exactly what's going on beneath that schmoozy smile of yours. I know what you're thinking between those ears of yours. You think I don't know, but I know. My good vibe radar is always on and it works pretty damn good if you ask me. How do you think I've stayed safe after all these hitchhiking and traveling shenanigans? I've invested in my trusty good vibe radar, and all has been well since.
It was even working for me that one night that Quality Beer bar was opening.
Saturday night. Opening night. And Rachel's last hooh-ha before she left for the Peace Corps in Rwanda. My good vibe radar is working just fine. By bad vibe radar starts blowing up when I start attempting to order my first beer and Tall Strange Man starts talking to me. Tall Strange Man has a charm, but it's a forced charm. He eyes my Illinois tattoo and says, "Hmmm, based on blah, blah, and blah, I'm going to say that you're frrrrommm.... Chicago?". Well yes, how ever did you know?
And then there's me, "I'm nice, I'm too nice, blah blah blah, look at me be nice to you even though my bad vibe radar is flashing in my face".
"Wow, well I used to live in the Chicago area. I used to live in Naperville. You know Naperville?"
"I know Naperville. It's snooty. I like to call everyone who lives there Naper-villans. (Hehe)."
"Well, my all time favorite story from living in Naperville was when I was looking out my window from my apartment one day, and this GIANT yellow Hummer pulls up and parks on the street. This girl opens the door. This teeny tiny girl in this teeny tiny short skirt opens the door and she can't get out because her skirt is too short!"
Oh. my. god. Rachel? Help me? I elbowed my friends chatting on the other side of me. I turn around after they get my attention (with my beer sitting there on the bar open for play of course). And then I decide to let him finish his story because I'm too nice. Remember?
He continues, "Well, I watched this girl for a good ten minutes while she's trying all these ways to get out of her giant Hummer in her tiny skirt, but she just cant get out without her skirt coming up. So I watch her look around, hike her skirt up, turn around, and jump out of the Hummer... she was wearing a THONG! Can you believe that!? I just couldn't believe I got flashed by a girl in a thong in Naperville. I just love that story. I just love it."
Man. I really know how to attract the good ones.
"Well that's just great. Sounds like Naperville to me."
"You know, I live in Mohamett, but I come to Champaign on the weekends to play. I'd love to hear about your traveling stories. I'd like to take your phone number."
"I'll think about it." I replied. And turned around.
And around and around and around.... is the room spinning? Nope. That's probably the roofies kicking in.
One of our regulars from Pekara spotted us at the bar and came over to tell us how much he loves coming in there, and how great of an atmosphere we make the place. He want's to buy us all a round of drinks. Rachel and I are, of course, ecstatic. This is ourr looovvaahhh. He comes in looking all handsome working at Corkscrew (a wine place in town), smiles, and tips us a couple of bucks each day. So here I am trying to turn on my charm, which really isnt working about half-way through my ONE beer where the room is spinning and I can't quite see which face of his is the one talking to me.
"Excuse me," I say to him once I finish my beer, and ask a friend to escort me to the bathroom since I'm not quite sure I can make it alone.
I smile, giggle, and walk away saying, "Hehehehe, I think I think I'm going to throw up! Hehehe!" And I do. It's on my shirt, it's in my breath. But mostly in the toilet. And I walk back to our looovvaahhh thinking things will be okay now. Of course! Who doesn't love a girl with beer on her shirt and vomit on her breath? Oh, and, isn't this drunk feeling supposed to go away once you actually get it out of your system? Maybe not when there's a roofie in it. I drink beer. I can drink more than ONE beer, and I have never. ever. ever. felt like this before. This. is. terrible.
Rachel decides that now is a good time to take me home where I stumbled into my sister's house, and couldn't go any further. I couldn't bring myself to change my clothes or brush my teeth. I made it all the way to the bathroom only to feel my body get terribly heavy, and feeling so nauseous I can't keep my eyes open. So I lay down in front of the shower for the night, and sunk into the ground hoping I'll feel better in the morning.
Morning came. Laying there on the bathroom floor, and I was sick on the couch drinking ginger ale and crackers all day praying that I could just vomit out my insides so I don't feel like this anymore.
A hangover from one undigested beer? Or a hangover from a Tall Strange Man roofie?
I never would, but ladies, don't ever go out to a bar without someone you trust with you. Kapish?

bittersweet

There is always, always, always a sadness in my heart when I leave an old destination and head out for a new one. Seattle was once my saddest departure. Champaign has crept it's way up to the far lead. Let's just get this out there... I sort of love humidity. I love my jogs down University Ave drooling over all the beautiful houses (perfect for starting a small hostel in...). I love nights at the Blind Pig where I always end up meeting new people. And of course running into people I'd rather not meet again. I miss my family. And I miss watching girly movies with my sister. I loved waking up every morning early to the birds chirping over my tent. I loved being able to get anywhere on my bike in ten minutes or less. I loved walking downtown and inevitably running into someone I know, and of course love. I even miss working at Pekara and greeting my regulars with my most friendly smile. I miss getting roofied at the new bar in town... err... actually I don't miss that. Should I even tell that story..? Yikes.
I thrive on hospitality. It's a bit hard to be hospitable to people in a new setting. I'll find a way. I always do.
I'll see you again soon Champaign.

The road is not always fun and games

I did. I pulled over last night numerous times, calling my dad in tears to check the weather again... and again... and again... and...
There is something eerie about the sun setting where you can't see it. The only thing I could see was the glow it gave the cumulus clouds that sparked with a flash of lightning off to my left. The roads became scarce after entering I-76. There were only rolling hills and highway in the distance. No tail lights ahead of me, no headlights behind me. Deserted exits from the highway were few and far between. The rain was loud. My car was being whipped around by the wind, and every once in awhile I'd hydroplane a little bit sending a shock wave of terror through my veins. Totally. alone.
A wet night on the highway is no place for tired eyes. When the storm finally passed me I pulled off at the next Walmart I found and marched into civilization to buy a snack and a redbox movie. Parking off in a tucked away corner, I situated myself in my car and let the glow of a lighthearted movie on my laptop finally lull me to sleep in my little Abigail Von Wedge. And I sort of loved it...

Welcome home you dirty hippie

I love being greeted into a Rainbow Gathering. "Welcome Home!" everyone shouts, and everyone crowds around to give you a hug and you always part with, "lovin' you sister, lovin' you". It's so sincere. They are lovin' on you. They're lovin' on each other. They're lovin' in the woods.
My greeting yesterday was the same. But rather than a forest full of hippies, I was surrounded by a forest full of trailer trash and dirty punk kids... and then that one guy... who was fabulously flamboyant, but insistently straight. They were all sitting in the oven that they built into the dirt. There were sticks jutting out of the ground with tarps and blankets draped over to make what was the main kitchen where makshift tables were set up and a tent FULL of food was standing next to it. I met Crab, Captain Rainbow, Taco, and all the other so-and-so's. Those are their "family names". Their given names like Jack and Conner were what they called their Babylon names. Of course it's kind of hard to remember a bunch of names like Joe Shmoe and So-and-so. But it sure is fun to try.
As soon as I sat down in the kitchen to make myself comfortable the eleven year old fat girl started pestering me to go swimming with her. Her mom was mean to her and always said 'no' to things, so anyone who is remotely nice about something (like myself), even if they're saying no, she takes it as an almost yes and will do her best to manipulate, bat her eyelashes, and get all up in your face until you say yes. And I wasn't having it. Until she asked if she could tattoo me with a sharpie.
"Ehh, Okay." What's the worst she could to? "Just nothing on my face." I told her. So she sat in front of me, looked me up and down, opened her sharpie and went to town on my arm. She started drawing a cross. Well that's sweet, I thought. I can dig this. I stared off into space for awhile, and when she finished I looked down to a giant cross on my arm with a blacked in snake slithering around it, and the words, "We love you" in chicken scratch nearly up on my shoulder. Oh god I hope this comes off tomorrow.
I decided right from the start not to stay for a long time. I didn't like the vibes. I'm big on the vibes. Gotta trust my vibes. You know? So I hiked up to the meadow where all the overweight people told me NOT to go because I'll HATE the hike (which actually wasn't that bad). I pitched my tent there and hiked around a bit, helped make dinner, and contributed my two jugs of water to my Rainbow Family. That was going to be it for me until the next morning.
The only other young girl at the gathering was not friendly by any means, and all the young guys (well, the ones that actually spoke every once in awhile) just talked about smoking pot and how they want to stay in he woods forever doing nothing. Not my idea of a productive life.
Later in the night we gathered around the fire for a drum circle, a time of discussion and suggestions for the gathering, and I skipped out to bed right before the "om". I've got different idea of spirituality than these folks, and I didn't quite want to hold hand with them around the fire chanting and making myself vulnerable to a spirituality that I'm not sure I am completely comfortable with. I walked back to my site and prayed my own prayers to my own God and fell quickly to sleep after journaling.
Until.. that is... around midnight a couple of drunk kids walked back to their tent which was right next to mine screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs to the people on the other side of the meadow for a GOOD twenty minutes. I heard one whisper now and again "I think people are trying to sleep man," and the response to that would be, "GET OFFFFFFF MY PORCH MOTHER FUUCKKKEERRRRRRRR. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOH OH OH OH. YI YI YI YI YI. OIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. WHERE YOU AT BOY!"
Twenty minutes.

This morning I packed up my tent, peeled the snails off my tent, and hiked back into the woods. I hiked down the hill and thought, well this doesn't look familiar. And hiked back up to the meadow. Examined the area a bit. Well maybe I just don't remember what it looked like. That's probably it. So I hiked back down again. I got the same spot and thought, well crap, I can't go down there. That doesn't look familiar. Once again, hiking all the way back up to the meadow, back to the Quit Your Bitchin' Kitchin' (as they liked to call it), and asked for help from a brother who walked me all the way back to the fork in the road where I got lost in the first place. Yep. I went the wrong way and would have ended up in the middle of nowhere Iowa in the middle of nowhere in the woods!
One hundred miles later I am in Omaha at a Starbucks where I washed myself and brushed me teeth in the bathroom, and got myself some beloved coffee. Welcome to the open road.
Nebraska, I hate you. I've got 450 miles of nothingness ahead of me until I hit Colorado.
And Champiagn, actually, I miss you lots. And all the people you have there. I'll be back.