Well, I’ve made it down to North Carolina to meet up with Dan and resume the road trip. Since he had the van, and it would have been a really long walk, I took a Greyhound bus for a whopping 15 hours to get here. For a seasoned traveler like myself, 15 hours would normally be cake, but compared to the freedom and connectivity of the Viral Van, the antiquated bus was tedious and grueling.

Just getting myself aboard the bus was an epic expedition. When I left Phoenix I had debated between taking the slightly bigger rolling suitcase and the more space efficient square bag with no wheels. I chose the smaller bag to keep myself from “over-packing,” but that turned out to be a horribly bad decision as I suffered and heaved and kicked the damn thing all the way from South Brooklyn to downtown Manhattan.

I took two subways and drudged though the maze that is Port Authority bus station all with my heavy backpack strapped to my sunburned back, a pillow and blanket under one arm, and the other attempting to carry the suitcase, and failing horribly every 10 steps. Although quite comical I’m sure, it took me so long that I almost missed my bus. If it wasn’t for the kindness of a few strangers along the way who grabbed the other handle and helped me drag my suitcase down the long tunnels, I probably would have never made it, or seriously injured myself trying.

I originally had all sorts of grandiose plans on how I would get myself to North Carolina. I considered everything from renting a one-way car, to taking various buses and trains so I would be able to see the countryside I missed between New York and North Carolina. But, once I started doing research, I saw the dollar signs flying by. Like Don the traveling flutist told me in San Diego, “To get what you want sometimes you have to give up what you have.” What I wanted was a little of my own adventure, and what I have is my backup money. In weighing my options, I decided it wasn’t a good idea for me to give up my money just for a few days of solo sight seeing. If I had my own car it would be different. I’d just take off into the sunset. I haven’t been able to roam the open range as much as I would like on this trip because of our schedule, but it’ll happen someday. This will not be my last adventure across the county.

The bus was once again a voyage into the technology void. With no plugs, I couldn’t power my antique laptop, and as my cell phone began to die, I stuffed it into my backpack to reserve power. I tried to read but I knew my light was bothering the other passengers on the red-eye bus ride, so I just tried to sleep. I’d hurt myself trying to carry my suitcase, and I was sunburned all over from lounging on Coney Island the whole day prior. Needless to say, it was not a very fun experience. The two hour layover in Virginia at 5 a.m., doubly so.

At least the people on the bus were funny and entertaining. It was definitely the most sociable form of public transportation I’ve experienced. Everyone was nice to me and excited to hear about my travels, even if the Greyhound workers were some of the nastiest and most unhelpful people I’ve encountered on this trip. There is something about being crammed like sardines that brings out the best and worst in people. Even though I was sore and exhausted, I gave up my better seat to a women who had been separated from her son. I had been shown such kindness by the strangers who’d helped me with my suitcase I wanted to pay it forward. A little bit of compassion makes so much of a difference in this world.

Now that we’ve hit the two days of rest we’d planned for in North Carolina, we are only a little more than halfway done with the trip. It feels like making it to New York was the big climax, but the reality is that we still have to make it all the way back across the country, and though much stickier foreign lands. The road from here will take us through the deep South, across Florida, down to New Orleans, and then it is the home stretch across the Texas and New Mexico deserts to Arizona.

In any case, I feel happy that we are turning towards “home.” I don’t really know where home is anymore, even thought I have a family who always welcomes me with open arms. I’m a weird limbo phase where I’m feeling like I don’t really fit in anywhere. The “home” of my childhood and the various places I’ve called “home” when I’m off at school are drifting away from me now. I can never really go back to those times, nor do I honestly want to. I know it is time for me to start making my own way. As I look at the road that leads me back to Phoenix, I see job applications and a dwindling savings account. I see my sky blue bedroom at my Mom’s house and my beater old car that’s brakes squeal like a dying pterodactyl. In a few weeks a lot of my friends will be going back to school, either finishing their undergrad or starting a masters degree. Reality is growing larger in the distance as the van makes its way out West. The adventure has been life changing, but just like I told the lost girl on the subway: you always need to be able to go home.