The Essence of a Person

"You still work at that place?" the bus driver asked as I climbed aboard the 35 going home in Kansas City. "Yeah, it's that bed and breakfast down on 46th. I'll be moving soon, though." As the words left me I felt a twinge of sadness at the potential loss of my usual bus driver. I have a strange relationship with bus drivers. On the rare occasion that my schedule becomes routine I manage to enjoy the presence of a few of them. This particular woman is fun because she's always in a rush and I never see her at the same time. It's almost as if she's driving the bus just for me. Even in the morning the Max driver has begun to greet me with a knowing smile. Though with all the layers I have on I doubt he actually knows what my face looks like. One of my favorite drivers was the man who drove me from my farm apprenticeship to my store front apartment (where I'd quickly wash all the straw and chicken shit off of me and then bike in my booty shorts and heavy eyeliner to my serving job in KC's version of New York  -Power and Light District).

He picked me up without judgement. He was a quiet man. He was a light-skinned, lean man with a full, white, santa beard (sideburns and all) and bald head. I could never identify his race. Bold round facial features on his long face and fair skin always had me in a tizzy trying to figure it out.

I hadn't thought of him in a while but the kindness of the 35 bus driver brought forth my memories. He reminded me of a man I used to work with. Similar build, Santa beard and always smiling. I remember looking forward to seeing him at my not-so-fabulous job selling shoes at Sears. Everyone loved him. His energy. His conversation. He was an oasis in my corporate, commission/ no base pay desert. I used to think of him as my crazy uncle. He made the place feel like family. Then one day he announced he was leaving. He had cancer.

Everyone grieved his absence. The place wasn't the same.

The strange thing is while I think I may have an idea, I don't remember his name. How could I not remember his name? He clearly made an impact on my life. Then I thought about it some more. I don't remember his name. But I remember him. Who he was as a person (at least while working at Sears). Names are common. We share them with others. But we as people are unique. We have a soul. An essence. A gestalt -if you will. His essence was comfort and peace.

Much like the the bus driver's. He picked me up without judgement. I would wait for the bus on the corner of Blue Parkway and Eastwood (apparently a big meth area) with my dirt stained overalls, moldy chicken shit smells, taped up shoes and buckwheat hair. As I sat on the ground on the side of the parkway, people would stop and offer me money. At some point a guy offered me a slice of pizza. It took me a few hours to figure out why. I walked into Burger King famished and upon ordering some fries, the person looked me dead in the eye and said "you are wearing shoes, aren't you?" Took me a while to figure that one out, too. The bus driver on the other hand didn't pass me by. He didn't turn his nose up at me. He didn't shoot me dirty looks. One time, he even waited for me at the bus stop while I crossed the impossible Blue Parkway. He was wonderful and I loved him (as much as a human can love a complete stranger). We struck up a conversation at some point where I [finally] explained that I was working at an urban farm down the street. A few weeks later he told me he was transferring bus lines. I baked him cookies with some strawberries I got from the farm. The next day the new bus driver drove right past me.

Sometimes our smallest interactions will lead to a legacy we could never anticipate. We toil and struggle so that people remember our names but perhaps we should make it that they remember our essence.

-O.T.

Heading to Kansas City (The Long Way)

Hi guys! So I'm planning a road trip and I want your two cents!  Missouri isn't too far from New Jersey but I figured while I have the time I might as well make some stops. I'll be heading the long way back to KC so if you know any great places I should stop, comment below, and I may add it to my itinerary.

Heading Home! (The Long Way...)
West Orange, NJ - Kansas City, MO
August 2016

West Orange Trip on Roadtrippers

-O.T.

The Mentality of Selling Your Possessions

Maui, Hawaii: I actually packed too much.

How can you just get rid of all of your stuff like that?

I'm asked that question constantly. The answer is: because that's just what it is. Stuff. I find one of the bigger travel inhibitors (outside of children and relationships) is stuff. It's quite amazing actually. We as a species started out with nothing but the clothes (plants?) on our back and a few tools for obtaining food and a cave as a home. Then we started building huts and beds to keep ourselves minimally comfortable. We were mostly a nomadic species, hitching up our tents and yurts and heading wherever good weather or food was. With those motivations (and getting away from our crazy family) we spread across the planet.

Fast forward 2015...16. Most of the terrestrial Earth has been explored. We've settled. We can easily access our own food. Heck we can change our own weather in the form of heating and AC. We don't like someone? Forget crossing the mountain, we just put up fences. Problem solved. We became too comfortable. Stagnant. We pride ourselves in our permanence. We pride ourselves in our stuff. In fact, what have houses become but shelters not only for ourselves but our stuff. The more stuff you have, the bigger the house you need to accommodate it. Or sometimes vice versa. Do we really need two to three living spaces? Do we need to change our perfectly good furniture every year? According to LA Times, the average American has 300,000 items in their home. NPR wrote that the size of the American home tripled in the past 50 years.

No matter where I live, my room is still messy.

We all fall victim to what society tells us. We need more stuff. You have to update your electronics every year. Your car isn't cool anymore, you need this one instead. It's a never ending cycle.

Before you go longterm traveling, I find it best to adapt an ¡Olvidalo! spirit and free yourself of what can and will hold you back. You could definitely put your stuff in storage but then you are stuck with paying $50-$500 per month holding on to things you aren't even using. That $50-$500 could go towards an extra month or two of rent in a foreign country. It could drive you across the US. It could go toward four months of food. It can get you a month of partying; or even a entire cup of coffee at Starbucks ^_~. Before you leave for your travels take each individual item and think "what would I lose by keeping this? Or what would be gained from losing it?" I've sold most of my possessions three times. The only thing I've regretted selling were my CDs; and even then, I could just get them again.

When you've whittled down your stuff to what you need, don't think about it for a while. A week later look at the stuff again and follow the same process. "What would I lose by keeping this? Or what would be gained from losing it?" If you can, get your possessions down to one large box and leave it with your family or friends. While the ¡Olvidalo! spirit calls for adapting a new mentality and forgetting the unimportant things, you must seek remember the important things. I've lived a lot of different places, had a lot of roommates and met a lot of people. After a while it becomes a bit difficult to keep track of it all. I always recommend keeping pictures and tokens of the past or a memorable moment or trip and keeping them in the box. Even now when I look at them I am reminded about how fast life is and how easy it is to forget what's important or how some person made you feel.

Traveling -especially if you've never traveled outside of the vacation context- changes you. Without fail, you will come out of it a different person than you went in. Most times those things you've held on to don't seem so important any more. Sometimes they aren't important to anyone else, either. You could hold on to your electronics but by the time you get back they will be obsolete and unsellable. Those heels are way cute but when you've walked halfway through Germany in a pair of Toms carrying a backpack the size of your whole body, the urge to walk on stilts doesn't seem appealing anymore. That super amazing high pressure 15 setting, light up showerhead felt great but after having to bathe in a cold-ass river in October for a few days  you will be grateful for any warm water at any pressure.  Either way, that money would be better spent in your pocket than towards stuff in a storage unit, collecting dust.

For more facts about "stuff" check out 21 Surprising Statistics That Reveal How Much Stuff We Actually Own.

-O.T.