My prayers to not be cursed with a hangover remained unanswered when I awoke last Saturday with a slight headache and stuffy head. Come on - I didn’t drink that much! As I walked up 23rd street to Kevin’s house, the reality of the situation became clear and sadness took hold of me. When staying with friends I feel at home and saying goodbye is never easy. I packed my stuff with a pout and wallowed in sadness for about an hour. It was then time to start the journey east.

Sarah and I decided that Lake Tahoe would be the perfect place for our first stop. We had a bite to eat and took advantage of the time to catch up since we hadn’t seen each other in about four months. We found a solitary spot around the lake with an ever so perfect dock that we sat on and dined on peanut butter, apples and rice cakes.

Our destination for the evening was Winnemucca, NV. As we approached the small town it became obvious that we should continue onward to Battle Mountain; 128 miles further. We always have a goal first thing in the morning, whether it be distance or destination. Often we decide to exceed our goal and move farther along. This not only adds to our sense of accomplishment, but also banks time for the unexpected.

Our first of what will probably be many visits to the renowned Super 8 Motel was uneventful. I like Super 8 because they have a waffle breakfast and free HBO. Shocking, I know. Even more shocking was dinner, which came in the form of a fish sandwich from McDonald’s, a last resort at 10 PM in Battle Mountain. Next time we may just roll the dice and try a local greasy spoon instead.

My last two days in San Francisco were nothing short of perfect. I had the opportunity to meet a friend of Kevin’s named Doug and his loving, shiny, bright-eyed Lab, Sophie. Sophie accompanied us to Dolores Park and interrupted us when we were comparing run-on sentences and swapping adjectives. On a scale of 1-10 for hotness, Doug is an 11. I enjoyed meeting another writer, we looked at each other’s work like chefs checking out each others’ recipes. Looks and brains, score!

Doug’s house was like a small museum of media. On the wall of his dining room were racks of CDs ranging from Alternative Rock to old school House jams to classical collections. Across from the musical amalgamation stood another wide wooden rack of cassettes. I had not seen a cassette tape in a while and was strangely comforted, like I had ventured to the attic and discovered my old stuffed animals. Further down the hall stood pillars of tapes and piles of articles and paper of various sizes. He explained that eventually all of this, waving his arms in a circular motion, will be in that, pointing firmly to his G5. I suggested that he hire somebody for such a Herculean task, but being the proud artist he is, he explained that they would never know what to put in and what to leave out. I knew exactly how he felt and returned to reading an article he had written detailing his experience on being a gay athlete.

This post would have been up on Saturday, but instead of telling you about it I was doing it and loving every minute. Now I am on the road keeping an eye out for good coffee and random RJ45 ports. Updates may be scarce. In the meantime, enjoy these lovely… photos.

My friend Kevin, who was gracious enough to let me invade his space for a week.

My friend Sarah, who is brave enough to share my drive cross country in Milo for a week.