We were all allowed a plus-one, and since my standard plus-one is across the world, I took my Eric friend. Because I had a dream where Eric and I were riding bikes and having fun, and I took that to mean that Eric and I would become better friends and have lots of fun, easy times together. I put a lot of stock in my dreams, what can I say?
It turned out to be the right thing, and I knew when he said on the phone that we’d go (“Yeah, okay, let’s do it”) that he was doing it for me. Because I needed a friend. Because I needed to get out of town.
So then there was a long drive through small towns, and shots of whiskey, loud music, huge crowds, psychadelic pattern projections, an early morning run over sand and redrock–hopping barbed wire, marveling at smoke stacks–and trippers and rollers everywhere, and sand in everything, and hot, hot sun and endless snacking, and then home.
And when I got home, there was this:
So the trip was worth it, and coming back home to an empty apartment was a softer landing than I’d expected, thanks to my friends.
Funny, because I almost didn’t go. I didn’t decide until the morning that we left. See, I’ve been waiting on my big sister to have her baby (my presence is required), and I was worried that she’d go into labor if I left town, and I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time. But she called me the night before we packed up and headed out and said “We don’t want you to put your life on hold for us. Go have fun, get out of town. It’ll be good for you. We’ll be fine.”
I’ve never felt so loved, so lucky, or so lonely. It’s a weird time in my life.