Category: Unsolicited Advice

Two men are already in the laundromat. The talkative one is tall and thin, dressed in a button down shirt tucked into office-appropriate pants. He has an old gentleman farmer air about him, the kind of man who could wear a rattan cowboy hat without irony. His friend is quiet, shorter and plumper, and dressed more casually, like he’s ready for gym class.  

I pour my dirty clothes into a washer.  

He used to be a preacher. Or maybe he wants to be a preacher. Either way, I can tell; he has launched into a lengthy, vehement sermon.  

I’m waiting for my laundry to dry. 

“Leading was Moses’s calling. What’s your calling?” 

“I don’t know,” I answer automatically, only half listening.  

“You don’t know?!”

His astonishment snaps me into the present. “I guess it’s writing,” I admit. I’m not used to being questioned by strangers about my purpose in life.  

I check my clothes. Still damp. I flick another quarter into the slot and press “Start.”  

He got shot. Gang violence. From that, he learned that he needed to get out of the city, lead a new lifestyle. His story would make a good after school special, but I don’t think people make those anymore.  

I’m folding towels.  

His laundry is folded and bagged. He tells me that he works as a counselor at the Community Center. Points to his name tag to prove it.  

“I’ve gotta get going,” he says.  

“Okay.”

His friend takes a seat on the other side of the room. I guess he’s heard this line before.  

I’m folding my pants.  

He asks where I’m staying. At a park west of town. He tells me there’s a nice motel in town. Lists the amenities: microwave, kitchen, TV… And it’s not expensive- maybe $80 a night. In fact, he has a brochure in his car.  

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m camping. I don’t think I could afford the motel, anyway.” 

“I’ll get you the brochure,” he says, and walks to the parking lot.  

“It’s nice,” his friend assures me. Echos a list of the establishment’s finer points.  

I’m folding shirts. 

The talkative one comes back in, hands me the brochure. I thank him out of politeness.  

They’re going to a cookout this afternoon. Or maybe they’re hosting a cookout. Whichever it is, they need to go. “Have a good day!” I call out.  

I’m matching up pairs of socks. 

They’re going to grill outside, barbecue. They mention where this get-together will occur, and don’t explicitly invite me, but it sounds like if I wanted to, I could stop by. He asks enough questions to drag out of me that I’m vegetarian.  

Please leave before I get to my underwear, I silently beg. [Yes, I fold underwear.]  

He seems receptive to ESP. We exchange pleasantries, and the men actually leave this time.

It occurs to me that this may be the first time someone has ever asked me what my calling is. And it may be first time I’ve stated it out loud. A few minutes later, I leave, too, with a basket of clean clothes and a reminder my greater purpose.

A spider has been living in my car’s side mirror for a couple months now. Each morning, I find a few hastily-woven threads- or a perfectly formed web, depending on the day- stretching from the mirror to the car door. It’s amazing how much work can be accomplished in one night.  

In ancient mythology, the spider represented destiny, weaving the thread of life. I can’t help but think of the symbolism, then, as I destroy each elegant tapestry in the name of safe driving: Don’t let your past dictate your present. Each day is a clean slate. You can be anything today. It’s never too late. What a refreshing thought!

I’m shocked by questions strangers ask. Point blank, “Are you traveling alone?”
“Who are you here with?” “Where are you staying?” “How long are you here?” “Where are you headed?” “What’s your ultimate destination?” “Where are you from? Where in Illinois?”

I’m sure that most people are asking innocently, just curious or starting a conversation. But I was alarmed by how many people didn’t seem to have the forethought to comprehend the situation. If they were a woman traveling alone, would they want to broadcast it to a stranger? Would they want to tell a strange man where they were staying? Where they live?

I quickly learned to give vague answers:
Where are you staying? “Nearby.” “In another town.”
Where are you headed? “South.”
How long are you here? “Not long.”

Of course, lying works, too. I used to think I was a bad liar, but I’ve been surprised at how quickly the lies gush out when my safety is at stake. I tell people that I still work at the last job I had. That I’m on vacation. I’m visiting a friend. Many times, I have been on my way to visit someone. I might not get there for another two weeks, but a stranger doesn’t need to know that. After telling people I was on vacation, a couple of them asked, “How long is your vacation?” What difference could that possibly make to them?!

If the questions get too personal, turn it back on the person who asked:
What city do you live in? “Why- are you gonna stop by?”
Where are you staying? “Why- are you planning on crashing my slumber party?’” 

The truth is always an option. “I don’t know you well enough to divulge those details.”

This cover for my security comes with a price: what if I actually want to become friends with some of these people? I’ve just based our relationship on lies. How could they believe anything I say after they find out I made up all the answers to their questions? Fortunately or unfortunately, I think there is enough cause for concern in the world that people will understand.

At the beginning of the year, some people’s instant reaction to my upcoming camping trip was, “Isn’t that dangerous?” I’d shrug. “Maybe.”

So far, I’ve found people to be good. When I parked on the side of the road to take pictures in Iowa in March, two or three people stopped to ask if I was okay. When snowflakes swirled in the air in Tennessee, an RV-er next to me offered his portable heater, plugged into his extension cord. [I didn’t take him up on it, since the tent and practically everything inside of it is plastic and probably highly flammable, but it was nice of him to offer.] In New York, my campground neighbor said I could use his picnic table, since my site didn’t have one. Other campers in neighboring sites along the way have made comments like, “If you need anything, you know where to find me!” and “I don’t have much, but what’s mine is yours.” How nice is that?

If someone finds out I’m traveling alone, more than anything, it seems like they are looking out for me. After chatting, they are sure to wish me safe travels and warm me about “people out there.” Luckily, so far, they are the People Out There!

If anyone reading this is putting off traveling out of fear, I would suggest a trial run. Take your dream for a test drive. For example, camp at a state park near where you live for a night or a weekend and see how it goes. Then build from there. 

On my weekend drives in Illinois, I started to recognize driving as a metaphor for seizing opportunities. My reflexes to quickly turn onto a side street or into a parking lot were pretty weak. I’d pass by, and the moment was lost.  

Out here on the road, I’m getting more practice Seizing the Opportunity both in and out of the car. I’ve learned to put up the tent now, while it’s still light out; take down the tent now, because it may rain later; look up driving directions, pay bills, and check email now, while I have internet access; stop for gas now, while there’s a gas station nearby; go for a hike while the weather’s pleasant, before the mosquitoes get horrendous.

You have five seconds to decide- Are you going to take the off ramp and visit this charming seaside town? Are you going to stop at the farm stand? Are you going to pull over and take this picture? You can turn around and go back, but by then, the deer has stolen into the woods, the light has changed, and the scene is no longer picture-worthy.  

I feel like I’m practicing for bigger, life-changing opportunities. I need to be prepared to grab them while they are available and within reach.

I didn’t know I would have so much to say about bathrooms.  

I’m reminded of a layover I had once at the Charlotte, NC, airport. A few women with Jamaican accents were cleaning the bathroom, and as travelers entered, the cleaning staff would call out, “Ladies! Come on in! Join the party!” I don’t know if any music was actually playing, but in my memory, I hear bubbling Caribbean rhythms in the background because of the atmosphere these women had created. As travelers washed up and left, the staff would bid, “Enjoy your flight!” and say “Thank you, ladies” Forget customer service- when was the last time you received a welcome like that? When was the last time you gave someone else a welcome, a goodbye, or a thank you with much enthusiasm? It’s so inspiring to see people who make an art of their work, who love their work, who lift others up through their work. Let me reiterate that these women were cleaning the bathroom. If they can bring that kind of joy to others, what’s my excuse?

I love how these women took a leadership role and claimed the bathroom as their territory. They made it their job to not just to scrub and mop, but to revitalize all the weary souls who entered. It’s really inspiring to see people in action who have their priorities in order.