Homeward Bound

So I’m on the last leg of my cross-country drive home, where I can go back to living the anti-Thomas Friedman lifestyle in my 750-square foot apt in Brooklyn. Ordinarily, I relish these (solitary) road trips, but this one, coming after a hellacious packing & moving experience, has already run its course for me. And I’m still in friggin Ohio.

To recap the highlights and lowlights thus far: I fought a hitchhiking fly for half of Nebraska (little bastard braved those 80 mph winds); jonesed for a decent cup of joe through all of Iowa; learned how popular hunting shows are during my first motel six layover at some exit off a cornfield; spent most of Indiana coughing up a french fry; and not least, catching up on all my own music (NO BACKYARDIGANS!!kids are already home).

Later tonight, if you see me barreling down the NJ turnpike, gyrating to Parliament’s “We Got the Funk” for the 12th time in three days, get out of my way.

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