first day

I think the first day deserves some attention. It certainly was awkward enough. I got on the road and almost immediately said to myself, "What in the hell am I doing?"

I hope later it'll feel more like second-nature.

I went for the Outer Banks. I know this of it.

1. It made popular those oval stickers with OBX printed.
2. It is like Ocean City, "but boring," said my brother when he was 13.
3. It contains a town named Duck
4. It is, in my head, a town made of sand dunes. It's totally off the grid.
5. To get there, take 95 to 64 E and so forth.

Driving south was like going forward in time. I watched the seasons change. 64 was the first road with any green on it (interstate 95 does not support life). It was a very gray, foggy day. Foreboding. On the bridge near Newport News, I saw very evil looking fog. You know, when the fog isn't an even cloud but smoky and organic. Like the illustrations in Scary Stories.

One similarity between Ocean City and the Outer Banks is the road leading there. Very unimportant-feeling, through small fields and ranch houses, and then an abrupt transition into a beach town. One difference is the dismal number of themed mini golf courses in OBX. I only saw one. There also is no boardwalk, and that means there are no henna tattoo stalls or arcades or seagulls fighting bitterly over discarded french fries.

But OBX does have some beautiful beach houses. A nice place to visit, even on a wet, gray day. Route 12 runs north-south. I drove north, through creepy green foliage, past lots of white SUVs, into a state park that said "4 Wheel Drive ONLY." Then I turned around.

I stayed at the Cavalier Motel.





Recommended. Really sweet inside. I met a mother staying next door with her two kids and had the opportunity to tell my first lie of the trip.

Her: So where are you guys from?

Oh really! You guys. Why can't people fathom a young woman traveling alone? I talked to myself and calmed down. She saw me trying to unwedge my jacket from the immense pile of crap in my car--she probably thought one person wouldn't need so much. Indeed. But I lied anyway because I never did meet those two kids of hers.

Me: Oh, we're from Maryland and Florida.
Her: And you met here?
Me: No, we met in Florida.
Her: You guys are on spring break, eh?
Me: It's complicated. I'm on spring break but he's not.
Her: I see.
Me: Yeah, it's hard to say goodbye.

What? And then I had that Boyz 2 Men song in my head for the next 40 minutes. I walked on the beach, very pleased that my feet were warm in my new Smartwool socks. I tried to think of what my purpose for this trip is. I also thought if I need a name. So far I have "Self Reliance '09" and "Quest for Dignity," and I know it doesn't make sense but it sounds good, right? But I couldn't decide on a name, and I was distracted by two seashells I found. Below is a picture of my feet and the ground, but the seashells I found are not pictured.



The beach is comforting, and here's why. You think of the ocean as alive, not as like a fragile ecosystem, but as a sentient being. Maybe an animal. It has moods, it slaps the ground and washes things up. And it really doesn't give a shit about you, in any way. This is comforting.

Staircases on the beach are absurd and great. They don't fit in, at all, and they're hulking and rigid and measured. No worn path in the ground--we need 12 stairs of equal size. Seeing a row of them really tickled me.

And here's a stupid self-picture. Not the last, I hope!!!!!



I like motels. I like a private space. I like HBO and I like not having to clean up when I leave. I ate a grapefruit and watched Terminator 2. Such a good movie, really. Though if you dissect it too much it doesn't make sense--how does the T-1000 work? He's liquid, but he's a robot? My frail human mind cannot take it. Also I love the part where Arnold says, "Now I know why you cry" and then is lowered dramatically into a vat of molten metal. Mark my words, I will go out that way.

I have pictures but I haven't yet figured out how to get them off my camera.